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HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


SQUARE  PEGS 


BY 


MRS.  A.  D.  T.  WHITNEY 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
re£$,  <£ambtibjje 

1899 


COPYRIGHT,    1899,  BY  ADELINE   D.  T.  WHITNEY 
ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGB 

I.   CHARLOCK  COTTAGE 1 

II.   THE  OTHER  AUNT 10 

III.  BOILING  UP,  AND  SIMMERING  DOWN         .        .  16 

IV.  THE  HENSLEES 22 

V.  A  MORNING  WOOD- WALK 29 

VI.   HENSLEE  PLACE 34 

VII.   PREDICAMENT 39 

VIII.   I  LIKE  HER 44 

IX.   FROM  STILLWICK  TO  MOUNT  STREET       .        .  48 

X.   LETTERS 62 

XI.   SCHOOL  EXPERIENCE 72 

XII.  SOCIAL  ICEBERGS 85 

XIII.  LATITUDES  :    AND  BURNT  ALMONDS          .        .  93 

XIV.  DR.  ULICK  NORTH 104 

XV.   CENSORSHIP 108 

XVI.   THE  REMNANT 115 

XVII.   "SNIPS" 124 

XVIII.   THE  THEATRE 132 

XIX.   By  THE  RIVER 143 

XX.  WHICH  END  is  THE  REMNANT  ?     .        .        .  150 

XXI.   THE  GLADMOTHER 161 

XXII.   ROSES  AND  RHODODENDRONS          .        .        .  170 

XXIII.  ASPHODEL  AND  WATER  LILIES  ....  178 

XXIV.  SQUARE  AND  ROUND 192 

XXV.   A  PANORAMA  OF  THE  PAST       .        .        .        .  203 

XXVI.   PICKED  UP  IN  THE  WOODS     ....  215 
XXVII.   THE  ROARING  GORGE         .        .        .  *     .        .223 

XXVIII.   HIGHLAND  NORA 229 

XXIX.   ONLY  JUST  BEHIND  HER  FACE         .        .        .  233 

XXX.   THE  MAY  QUEEN 242 

XXXI.   THINGS  :    AND  SPIRIT 253 

XXXII.   ASTIGMATISM  :   AND  WINDMILLS     .        .        .  265 


1694444 


iv  CONTENTS 

XXXIII.  BE'ZIQUE 275 

XXXIV.  THE  RELIGION  OF  BUSINESS  ....  283 
XXXV.  SEEING  THROUGH 292 

XXXVI.  WEST  GARDENS  AND  SHAWME  STREET         .  296 

XXXVII.  DEPARTURES 313 

XXXVIII.  IN  THE  AWMRY  ROOM 321 

XXXIX.  AUNT  ESTHER'S  SOLO 336 

XL.  EVENINGS  IN  CASINO  CRESCENT    .        .        .  340 

XLI.  MORNING  SUNSHINE 348 

XLII.  MISSING 354 

XLIII.  FATHER  AND  SON 358 

XLIV.  THE  RULE  OF  THREE 364 

XLV.  "  WHAT  DID  HE  COME  HERE  FOR  ?  "        .        .  374 

XL VI.  "DR.  NORTH  is  A  FINE  MAN"      ...  380 

XL VII.  HOLIDAYS  IN  THE  CRESCENT     ....  387 

XLVIII.  "WE  UNDERSTAND" 398 

XLIX.  THE  SAUNSEE  MILLS 406 

L.  "I  WOULD  NEVER  HAVE  LET  YOU  Go  !  "   .  414 

LI.  "CAN  YOU  PUT  UP  WITH  IT?"         .         .         .  420 

LII.  "  HISTORY  REPEATS  ITSELF  "...  424 

LIII.  QUEEN  ESTHER 427 

LIV.  THE  LAUNCHING  OF  THE  GOLDENROD  .        .  431 

LV.  THE  GLADMOTHER  is  ORACULAR       .        .        .  438 

LVI.  SHRIFT 443 

LVII.  LADY  OF  HENSLEIGH 453 

LVIII.  THE  SAILING  OF  THE  GOLDENROD        .        .  462 

LIX.  INHERITANCE 466 

LX.  COMFORT  AND  COUNSEL  .....  471 

LXI.  EXECUTORSHIP 476 

LXII.  APPRAISALS 483 

LXIII.  R.  THISTLESTOKE 490 

LXIV.  SPECTACLES       .......  494 

LXV.  UNCONDITIONAL  SURRENDER      ....  498 

LXVI.  As  A  SAPPHIRE  STONE   .        .        .  500 


SQUARE  PEGS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHARLOCK    COTTAGE. 

A  COMMOX  kitchen  garden  and  small  orchard  planta 
tion  ran  down  from  before  the  back  stoop  to  the  rough 
fence  that  shut  off  a  bit  of  meadow. 

Beyond  the  meadow  strip,  hidden  under  low,  weedy 
banks,  where  alders  grew  and  blackbirds  nested  in  the 
tangled  coverts,  scampered  a  bright  little  brook,  making 
its  own  music  all  the  time,  accompanied  in  the  day  by 
the  whistle  and  chirr  of  the  restless  winged  creatures, 
and  all  night  long  by  the  booming  and  shrilling  of  the 
frogs. 

Over  the  brook  began  a  stretch  of  quiet  woodland. 
Out  of  its  stillness  came,  in  the  long  evenings,  the  cry  of 
the  whippoorwill :  sometimes  an  owl  hooted.  Besides 
the  blackbirds  who  especially  homed  and  haunted,  other 
singing  birds  made  the  mornings  sweet,  and  the  tender 
iteration  of  his  two  notes  betrayed  the  near,  shy  presence 
of  the  quail. 

The  house  standing  at  the  head  of  this  garden  and 
meadow  slope  was  a  plain,  low  structure,  two  rooms 
deep.  It  fronted  on  the  village  street,  with  only  a  fif 
teen-foot  dooryard,  shaded,  however,  by  two  majestic 
elms,  one  on  either  side  the  gateway,  whose  inner  branches 
swept  the  roof. 

The  four  lower  rooms  were  a  parlor,  a  kitchen  behind 


2  SQUARE  PEGS. 

it,  a  milliner's  shop  at  the  other  front,  and  a  bedroom 
behind  that.  Upstairs  were  small  cottage  chambers. 
One  of  these,  whose  little  dormer  window  looked  right 
into  the  heart  of  the  elm,  and  the  secrecy  of  a  hangbird's 
nest,  was  Estabel  Charlock's,  when  she  came  to  stay 
here  with  her  "  other  aunt." 

Estabel  Charlock  was  being  brought  up  in  sections, 
as  it  were,  by  two  aunts,  in  very  irregular  alternations. 
The  two  respectively  denominated  each  other  as  above 
quoted.  The  aunt  in  present  administration  was  the 
milliner,  plain  Miss  Esther  Charlock. 

John  Charlock  had  loved  his  sister,  and  desired  to 
give  his  child  her  name,  which  had  been  his  mother's 
also ;  but  his  wife,  Isabel,  had  made  compromise  with 
this  fanciful  combination.  John  could  not  refuse  her 
claim,  put  only  second ;  and  the  natural  shortening 
brought  it  about,  in  his  own  use,  to  his  own  intent. 

None  of  them  thought,  or  perhaps  knew,  the  remote 
signification  of  the  two,  or  what  their  joining  might 
suggest  as  prophecy.  The  girl's  life,  as  measured  in 
the  present,  might  give  no  hint  of  its  fulfillment ;  but 
the  "  new  name  "  was  waiting  for  her  to  grow  to ;  the 
ultimate  was  in  bud  under  the  initial ;  we  are  told  it 
shall  be  so,  in  final  revelation,  with  every  spirit. 

Estabel  was  not  a  beautiful  child ;  she  did  not  shine, 
in  any  way,  as  a  morning  star;  she  did  not  come  up 
above  her  horizon  in  time  for  that.  Hester  the  Beauti 
ful  is  not  always  the  planet  of  dawn.  She  climbs  all 
day,  sometimes,  behind  the  sun. 

Estabel  had,  as  every  human  creature  has,  the  begin 
nings  of  beauty ;  but,  as  happens  with  so  many  of  us, 
very  few  persons  detected  them.  It  needed  a  sort  of 
second  sight,  in  which  people  are  lovely  who  fail  of  the 
immediate  positive  sign. 

Her  hair  was  pale  and  straight.  Neither  she  nor 
any  one  else  knew  anything  better  to  do  with  it  than  to 
draw  it  sharply  back  from  her  thin  face,  and  braid  it  in 


CHARLOCK  COTTAGE.  3 

a  tight,  tidy,  uncompromising  tail,  tied  often  with  a 
crumpled  ribbon.  The  tail  was  slenderer  than  if  the 
hair  had  been  of  coarser  fibre  or  more  generously  han 
dled,  and  its  faint  color  was  easily  put  out  by  any 
deep  contrast  of  its  fastening.  Dark  brown,  which  she 
mostly  wore,  extinguished  it.  Pale  blue  made  it  look 
nice,  but  was  too  delicate ;  she  could  not  have  fresh 
ribbons  every  day;  as  I  have  said,  the  dark  ones,  even, 
were  worn  until  they  were  well  crumpled.  But  it  must 
be  confessed  that  up  to  her  present  age  it  had  been  true 
of  her  that  she  crumpled  herself  pretty  generally  to 
match. 

She  had  clear,  penetrating  eyes ;  straight-glancing, 
demanding.  Their  color  was  not  determined ;  it  was 
ordinarily,  perhaps,  a  dusky  gray,  but  with  a  curious 
central  deepening  at  times,  like  the  heart  of  a  chryso- 
beryl;  and  if  you  noted,  a  luminous  flash  also,  like  the 
irradiation  of  that  rare,  peculiar  gem.  The  lashes  and 
brows  were  dark.  This  was  "queer,  with  light  hair, 
and  no  particular  colored  eyes, "  common  observers  used 
to  say.  It  was  really  nature's  caveat,  her  bespeakal 
of  right  to  perfect  her  own  plan  at  leisure. 

Estabel  never  thought  much  about  her  clothes.  They 
were  things  to  get  on,  before  she  could  be  free  of  the 
day ;  before  she  could  begin  to  make  any  delight  of  it. 
They  were  something  in  the  way  when  a  proper  appear 
ance  was  necessary  before  she  could  enjoy.  She  envied 
the  hens,  who  fluttered  down  from  their  roosts  in  all 
their  feathers. 

She  did  not  live  very  much,  as  yet,  in  any  present 
objective  of  herself.  Her  impulses  urged  forward  into 
all  that  was  beyond.  And  yet  they  returned,  in  a 
strange,  half-comprehended  reflex,  upon  that  entity  of 
her  which  was  building,  as  the  bees'  comb  builds,  from 
the  far-fetched  wax  and  honey  of  the  fields. 

She  wanted  it  all,  somehow,  in  herself,  —  her  very 
own  life.  She  wanted  to  be. 


4  SQUARE  PEGS. 

With  the  impatience  of  an  intense,  imaginative  na 
ture,  she  wanted  to  be,  at  once.  She  anticipated  her 
self,  and  in  all  sorts  of  successive,  incongruous  ways. 
Perhaps  the  elements  of  any  one  of  the  projections  of 
life  in  which  her  fancy  indulged,  and  in  which  she  posed 
herself,  enacting  scenes  and  situations,  —  trying  herself 
on,  —  may  have  heen  in  her,  waiting  circumstance  and 
choice.  At  present  she  was  everything  by  turns  and 
nothing  long  or  completely;  everything  in  dream,  and 
scarcely  anything  in  actuality.  How  else  could  it  be 
with  a  child  of  fifteen,  in  whom  the  restless,  eager,  un 
formed  woman-soul  was  struggling? 

Her  mother's  sister,  Vera  Cumsden,  was  a  richer 
woman  than  Esther  Charlock.  While  she  had  kept  on, 
an  independent  spinster,  in  the  Cumsden  family  home 
at  Oxton  which  had  fallen  into  her  final  sole  possession, 
or  when  in  her  absolute  freedom  she  had  chosen  to  spend 
an  occasional  winter  in  the  great,  distant  city,  she  had 
now  and  then  claimed  Estabel  as  her  companion  for  a 
convenient  season.  This  was  partly  conscience,  feeling 
that  she  must  somehow  do  her  share,  and  partly  an  aug 
mented  ease  and  pleasure  to  herself,  especially  in  her 
transient  metropolitan  sojourns,  when  to  be  quite  alone, 
and  without  obvious  tie  or  object,  was  in  a  way  awk 
ward,  as  well  as  sometimes  dreary.  It  is  often  easier 
to  carry  one's  self  well  with  some  little  thing  in  one's 
hand.  Aunt  Vera  took  Estabel  in  hand,  and  was  com 
fortable. 

She  would  fit  her  out  with  a  pretty  wardrobe  for  the 
time  being,  take  personal  pains  with  her,  and  transform 
her  briefly  into  quite  a  different  bit  of  little-girlhood, 
in  quite  a  new  episode  of  experience.  It  seemed  to 
Estabel  as  unreal  as  any  of  the  other  dreams,  when  she 
was  remanded  to  the  solitudes  and  small  samenesses  of 
Stillwick. 

The  pretty  wardrobe  would  be  all  worn  out,  except 
perhaps  a  gown  or  two,  which  Miss  Esther  would  keep 


CHARLOCK   COTTAGE.  5 

back  thriftily  from  common  use  until  they  grew  old- 
fashioned  altogether,  and  had  to  be  altered  with  some 
scrimp  and  loss,  to  do  duty  where  fresh,  plain  garments 
would  have  been  far  more  in  graceful  keeping,  which  is 
all  that  can  illustrate  style  or  taste,  or  that  they  have 
any  business  to  mean.  A  frequent  sense  of  this  unsuit- 
ableness  handicapped  the  ease  and  confidence  upon 
which  good  manner  depends ;  Estabel  lapsed  into  an 
awkwardness  of  chagrined  self -consciousness.  Miss  Es 
ther  thought  "her  visit  to  Topthorpe  "  or  to  Oxton,  as 
the  case  might  be,  "had  not  improved  her  much."  The 
verdict  went  to  intensify  the  conditions  upon  which  it 
based  itself. 

That  Estabel  was  capable  of  being  so  wrought  upon, 
proved  that  she  was  not  yet  in  the  reality  of  herself; 
that  she  had  not  come  to  her  full  and  fair  opportunity. 
Nobody  thought  of  that ;  people  thought,  here  in  Still- 
wick,  that  she  had  great  opportunities ;  they  expected 
her  to  come  back  among  them  with  a  very  visible  city 
polish.  They  might  have  resented  that ;  as  it  was, 
they  said  of  her,  with  a  certain  satisfaction,  that  she 
had  no  manners,  after  all. 

Dropping  back  from  her  brief  holiday  and  half-train 
ing  into  the  inevitable  Stillwick  homeliness  and  the  not- 
caring  that  was  habitual  to  her,  that  finer  instinct  which 
might  have  concerned  itself  with  expression  in  externals 
was  driven  back  with  all  the  more  force  upon  idealities. 
She  brought  into  her  secret  world  a  small,  imperfect 
store  of  things  gathered  up  elsewhere,  and  lived  them 
out  in  her  strange,  solitary  fashion. 

Under  the  elms,  on  the  broad,  flat  doorstone,  she 
would  sit  in  the  flickering  moonlight  and  shadow,  tell 
ing  some  story  of  imagined  experience  or  some  confi 
dence  of  intimate  thought  to  a  companion  as  mythical 
as  the  tale,  yet  as  real  as  the  thought.  Myth  was 
verity  to  her,  as  it  was  to  the  mythmakers  of  old.  It 
is  the  life  of  the  young  soul  and  of  the  young  world. 


6  SQUARE  PEGS. 

If  the  things  of  shadow  are  not  fact  at  the  moment, 
they  are  shadows  flung  from  fact,  that  has  been,  back 
of  literal  memory,  or  may  be,  beyond  actual  foresight. 
Estabel  made  up  what  she  pleased ;  there  was  every 
thing  in  all  the  world  to  draw  from,  if  everything  were 
not  here  in  Stillwick  and  Aunt  Esther's  little  domain. 
Common  things  covered  the  invisible ;  pine  woods  were 
the  hiding  of  Elf -Land ;  fairy  tales  told  the  secret  that 
the  earth  was  full  of. 

She  made  up  friends  ;  she  made  up  society ;  she  made 
up  a  lover,  even,  like  those  in  books  she  read;  and  the 
lover  was  just  as  simple-natural  as  all  the  rest.  She 
only  wanted  him  that  she  might  be  cared  for  first ; 
might  be  by  somebody  altogether  delighted  in  and  un 
derstood.  The  people  of  her  self -created  sphere  were 
kind  and  good  to  her ;  they  were  grand  and  sweet,  noble 
and  wise ;  she  built  a  little  kingdom  of  heaven  for  her 
self,  which  indeed,  some  tell  us,  we  are  all  to  do,  out 
of  our  best  and  happiest. 

Once  in  a  great  while  she  pretended  to  herself  a  mo 
ther  ;  but  that  came  too  near  a  half-comprehended  truth. 
She  did  not  dare  go  far  with  that.  It  was  the  fictitious 
replacement  of  a  real  loss.  To  tell  things  to  her  mo 
ther  made  the  tears  come,  she  hardly  knew  why.  The 
child's  life  had  begun  with  a  missing.  It  had  seemed 
to  be  just  off  time  with  everything,  from  the  forgotten 
start. 

Her  day  leisures  were  filled  with  the  acting  out  of 
fantasies.  In  pleasant  weather  the  kitchen-garden  and 
bit  of  orchard  became  her  haunt,  her  theatre,  her  world. 
They  represented  all  things  to  her,  suiting  all  her 
moods. 

Among  the  lilies  and  the  hollyhocks,  the  asparagus 
and  corn,  —  in  the  shady  fruit-tree  alleys  and  betAveen 
the  rows  of  gooseberry  and  currant  bushes,  she  walked 
as  in  a  great,  gay,  happy  concourse.  She  trailed  ima 
ginary  velvets  or  sheeny  silks,  as  a  splendid,  fashionable 


CHARLOCK   COTTAGE.  7 

woman ;  there  was  music  of  the  birds  and  of  the  brook 
in  the  air;  light  shimmered  softly  among  the  shadows 
or  flamed  broadly  over  open  space.  The  company  as 
sembled  with  her  was  individualized,  historied,  and 
grouped  in  her  imagination.  She  was  in  the  midst,  ad 
mired,  attended.  She  had  her  share  of  life.  Only  her 
share ;  everybody  was  charming,  and  she  was  charming, 
too.  She  was  let  in,  and  made  welcome.  It  was  a 
harmless,  sublimated  world ;  she  had  the  good  of  every 
thing  that  might  be,  and  the  bad,  the  mean,  was  all 
distilled  away. 

Sometimes  she  quietly  found  a  place  where  she  might 
sit  hidden ;  then  she  fancied  herself  in  some  vast,  still, 
rapt  congregation,  listening  to  great  words ;  stirred  by 
the  fine  enthusiasms  of  an  uplifted  multitude.  Often 
she  read  such  words,  that  she  had  found,  aloud;  oftener 
she  sat  still,  and  thought  them. 

Many  a  Sunday  hour  she  passed  so,  in  a  dream  of 
worship  and  reverence  that  never  came  to  her  in  the 
glaring  little  village  church,  with  its  cross-lighting  win 
dows  and  white  paint,  its  rustle  of  Sunday  gowns  and 
fans,  its  motley  level  of  best  bonnets,  its  halting,  irregu 
lar  murmur  of  a  newly  innovated  Responsive  Service, 
and  then  the  flourish  of  the  rural  choir  in  the  weekly 
glory  of  its  ambitious  demonstration.  It  was  better 
set  forth  here,  she  thought,  — the  thing  they  tried  to 
represent. 

Again,  she  would  go  out  upon  the  meadow  slope  be 
yond  it  all,  and  become  a  great  actress,  before  a  bril 
liant,  spellbound  audience,  rehearsing  scenes  that  she 
had  learned  by  heart  out  of  Shakespeare;  while  a  low 
hush  lay  upon  everything  except  her  voice,  until  broken 
at  some  apposite  climax  by  the  wind  of  an  applause 
that  set  the  cornblades  shivering,  and  bowed  to  her  feet 
the  delicate,  plumy  panicles  of  the  flowering  grass. 

She  danced,  she  sang,  she  improvised;  she  recited 
poems  that  she  had  written  in  the  solitude  of  her  room, 


8  SQUARE  PEGS. 

when  Aunt  Esther  was  in  the  shop,  and  she  was  supposed 
to  be  mending  her  stockings.      I  am  afraid  the  stocking 
was  often  put  on   in   a  hurry  and   the  heel   that   should 
have  been  mended  pulled  down  and  tucked  into  the  shoe. 
"  Esther !      Es-ther !      Es-ther-JeZ  /  " 
The  shrill  call  rang  from  the  back  doorstone. 
Estabel,  in  the  midst  of  the  last  scene  from  the  "  Lady 
of  the  Lake,"  was  grandly  elocutionizing  for  the  King, 
while  maintaining  her  own  pose  and  expression  as  Ellen 
Douglas.      She  hurried  on  between  the  imperative  calls 
and   variations    of    her    own   proper   name,    with   Fitz- 
James's  gentle  questioning, 

"  Hast  thou  no  other  boon  to  crave  ? 
No  other  captive  friend  to  save  ?  " 

"Estabel!  why  don't  you  come?  Make  haste;  I 
want  you !  " 

She  made  haste ;  rushed  on,  as  chorus,  with  the  con 
cluding  lines  in  which  her  dramatic  soul  delighted,  tak 
ing  her  own  part  in  the  thrilling  tableau  while  vividly 
imagining  to  herself  all  the  rest  of  it. 

"  His  chain  of  gold  the  king  unstrung, 
The  links  o'er  Malcolm's  neck  he  flung, 
Then  gently  drew  the  glittering  band, 
And  laid  the  clasp  on  Ellen's  hand." 

—  "Yes,  auntie,  what  is  it?  " 

And  with  suddenest  change,  the  Lady  of  Loch  Ka 
trine  left  Stirling  Castle,  audience  room,  monarch, 
Douglas,  Malcolm,  and  all;  the  actress  sprang  over  the 
footlights  —  prosaically  the  low  fence  between  meadow 
and  garden  —  among  her  audience,  and  ran  swiftly  up, 
the  straightest  way,  through  the  middle  path,  toward 
the  clothes  yard  and  the  kitchen  stoop. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  child  doing  there?  " 
Another  voice  which  Estabel  had  not  heard  had  just 
asked  that.      Some  one  had  followed  Aunt  Esther  to 
the  doorway,  and  stood  behind  her. 


CHARLOCK   COTTAGE.  9 

"  Nothing,  —  in  the  ivorld.  She  never  is  in  the 
world, "  answered  Miss  Charlock.  "  Hurry,  child ! 
Your  other  aunt  's  come!  Don't  you  see?  Didn't  you 
hear  ?  What  were  you  about  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  heard.  But  I  had  to  finish.  I  came  as 
quick  as  I  could.  I  was  doing  the  end  of  the  'Lady  of 
the  Lake.'  Fitz- James  and  I,  you  know,  were  the  'cen 
tre  of  the  glittering  ring,  and  Snowdoun's  knight  was 
Scotland's  king.'  ' 

"You  look  fit  to  be  the  '  centre  of  a  glittering 
ring  ' !  "  Miss  Charlock  exclaimed  with  force.  "You're 
a  glittering  fiddlestick! — I  don't  know  what  you  will 
do  with  her  in  Topthorpe,  sister-in-law-in-law!  " 

With  which  gently  humorous  title  of  her  own  research 
and  application,  Miss  Charlock  got  round  the  difficulties 
between  distance  and  intimacy,  cleverly  compounding 
the  two. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    OTHER    AUNT. 

THE  "other  aunt  "  has  not  been  properly  introduced. 

She  was  originally  Miss  Vera  Cumsden;  but  in  the 
last  two  years,  during  which  Estabel  had  been  left  to  the 
monotonies  of  Stillwick,  over  which  her  own  bright, 
shifting  fancies  had  to  play  with  continual  transforming 
flash  of  light  and  color  to  make  them  endurable,  Miss 
Cumsden  had  married,  spent  nine  months  in  Europe, 
and  returned  to  her  native  country  to  establish  herself 
in  a  handsome  home  in  Topthorpe.  It  does  not  matter 
which  American  city  that  is;  it  may  stand,  in  certain 
respects,  for  any ;  we  will  not  be  too  local,  as  if  to 
charge  upon  any  one  centre  peculiarities  or  conditions 
that  may  seem  invidious,  or  claim  for  it  characteristics 
of  a  comparative  superiority.  Such  peculiarities  are 
less  peculiar  than  may  be  commonly  supposed ;  the  con 
ditions  and  characteristics  are  largely  typical,  and  may 
be  found,  in  but  slightly  varying  illustration,  in  any 
centre  whatever  of  busy,  striving,  emulous  —  generous 
or  petty  —  real  or  pretentious  —  human  life. 

Aunt  Vera  married  —  and  at  thirty-eight  years  old 
—  Mr.  Abel  Clymer.  He  was  a  chinaware  merchant 
and  importer,  extremely  well  off  for  that  time  and  fash 
ion,  conspicuous  indeed  as  a  moneyed  man,  and  fully 
intending  to  be  more  so ;  able  to  begin  life  at  forty- 
five,  at  a  differently  advanced  point  from  that  at  which 
he  must  have  started  at  twenty-five.  "What  he  may 
have  gained  or  lost  in  essentials  in  the  years  between, 
this  story,  except  by  implication,  will  not  undertake  to 


THE   OTHER   AUNT.  11 

tell.  The  values  that  he  placed  on  things,  the  sur 
roundings  by  which  he  materialized  himself,  may  indi 
cate  results  of  the  living  of  a  score  of  years  which,  ex 
cept  for  a  record  of  buying  and  selling  and  getting 
ready  to  be,  remains  perhaps  a  blank. 

It  was  a  very  comfortable  marriage.  Neither  party 
had  any  unreasonable  ideals,  — at  least,  as  regarded 
each  other ;  it  may  as  well  be  stated  here  as  anywhere, 
though  it  will  probably  state  itself  all  along,  that  each 
and  jointly  they  had  certain  practical  ideals  of  means 
and  place.  Abel  Clymer  was  eager  and  shrewd  and 
ambitious  for  the  means,  which  involved  place  also, 
among  his  fellow  aspirants  in  trade  and  on  exchange ; 
the  securing  of  these  he  thought  ought  to  include  all 
else ;  but  he  could  not  attend  to  everything,  or  repre 
sent  himself  everywhere,  in  all  relations.  A  wife  was 
needed,  and  he  married  her ;  he  left  the  social  ambitions 
and  management  to  her  share  of  responsibility  in  the 
partnership. 

With  his  money  and  his  activity  and  his  shrewd  judg 
ment,  he  was  of  consequence  among  men  in  civil  and 
political  affairs.  He  was  on  the  Common  Council;  he 
was  at  the  front  in  any  enterprise  or  public  manifesta 
tion  which  required  a  man  of  a  certain  amount  of  influ 
ence,  and  of  a  readiness  also  to  put  time  and  energy 
into  the  matter  with  zeal  and  pride.  This  brought 
about  connections  which  were  semi-social  in  the  degree 
he  coveted ;  he  hobnobbed  with  the  masculine  side  of 
Topthorpe  aristocracy ;  he  gave,  and  was  invited  to,  din 
ners  and  suppers  where  men  came  or  entertained  whose 
wives  knew  nothing  about  him  conventionally.  A  wife 
of  his  own  would  be  the  missing  link ;  there  were  things 
that  only  a  woman  could  do. 

He  had  too  much  common  sense  to  think  that  he 
could  marry  direct  into  the  highest  mystic  round,  —  or 
even  to  wish  to  do  so;  also,  he  had  no  mind  to  take 
meek  second  place  to  his  wife ;  he  wanted  a  woman  with 


12  SQUARE  PEGS. 

but  the  capacity  and  personality  to  work  with  him  to 
his  object;  to  "keep  up  her  end,"  he  phrased  it  to  him 
self.  He  would  rather  earn  place,  as  he  had  earned 
money,  by  original  effort  and  ability,  than  be  lifted 
into  it  over  a  wall.  There  was  something  of  delight  in 
difficulty ;  something  of  inspiration  in  a  vigorous  cam 
paign.  Whatever  is  ivorth  while  takes  while,  he  re 
flected  ;  that  goes  in  the  very  saying. 

He  bought  a  house  on  Mount  Street;  he  put  it  in 
the  hands  of  a  good  architect  and  builder,  with  waiting 
orders  also  at  a  leading  upholsterer's,  who  dealt  only  in 
the  best;  then  he  and  Mrs.  Clymer  sailed  for  Europe, 
a  fine  thing  to  do  in  those  days,  and  a  fine  thing  to 
refer  to  after  it  was  done. 

With  this  experience  and  prestige,  and  the  tangible 
evidences  in  elegant  accumulations  of  foreign  travel, 
they  returned  in  due  time  and  took  possession  of  the 
showy  mansion  that  had  been  made  ready  for  them ; 
grand  in  furnishings  of  velvet  and  silk  and  glass  and 
gilt,  profuse  in  equipment  of  porcelain,  crystal,  and  sil 
ver  and  fine  linen.  There  was  a  linen-room,  and  a 
china-room;  closets  were  not  adequate.  The  china- 
room  lay  in  an  angle  between  hall,  back  drawing-room, 
and  dining-room,  accessible  from  all,  and  glitteringly 
visible,  through  casually  opened  doors,  to  either.  Its 
deeply  loaded  shelves  showed  their  splendid  ranges  from 
behind  plate-glass  sliding  sashes. 

The  recesses  of  the  back  drawing-room  served  as 
library.  Shelves  from  floor  to  ceiling  —  plate-glass 
again,  and  carven  frames  —  held  fine  array  of  standard 
works,  immaculate,  unfingered,  their  ranks  unbroken, 
each  answering  to  name  and  place  like  soldiers  at  roll 
call  and  on  parade,  as  yet  unsummoned  into  action. 
In  short,  the  whole  establishment  represented  an  attain 
ment  in  life,  in  all  directions,  yet  to  be.  It  was  a 
draft  in  advance. 

It  was  all  a  little,  —  nay,  a  good  deal,  —  in  advance 


THE  OTHER  AUNT.  13 

of  the  taste  and  habit  of  the  day.  Mr.  Clymer  was 
ahead  of  his  neighbors  in  the  outward  sign.  All  down 
Mount  Street  were  good,  substantial  houses,  inhabited 
by  good,  substantial  families,  who  need  hang  out  no 
placard  of  what  they  meant  to  be ;  wherein  stood  the 
same  old-fashioned  mahogany  and  hair-cloth,  the  same 
quaint  sideboards  and  long  sofas  with  rolled  pillows  and 
brass  rosettes,  that  had  stood  there,  or  elsewhere  in  the 
same  relations,  fifty  years  before ;  where  the  handsome 
old  looking-glasses,  not  over-big,  hung  above  modest 
side  and  card  tables,  instead  of  paneled  mirrors  fitted 
to  the  entire  walls,  and  resting  upon  low  marble  con 
soles  adorned  with  costly  vases.  Beautiful,  rare  ala 
basters  there  might  be,  or  stately  bronzes ;  heirlooms, 
not  things  of  purchase  within  memory  of  present  owners, 
—  people,  like  their  ancestral  properties,  of  a  sort  and 
poise  that  could  afford  to  stand  as  they  were  for  a  cen 
tury  ;  who  had  at  least  a  century  behind  them ;  who 
represented  not  a  future,  but  a  past. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clymer,  with  their  fine  ambitions, 
their  lavish  anticipations,  were,  after  all,  off  time. 
They  made  the  mistake  of  hundreds ;  the  great  secret, 
which  so  few  have  learned,  —  which  indeed,  in  the  con 
trariety  of  circumstance,  so  few  can  compass,  —  is  to 
coincide  with  hour,  condition,  and  genuine  opportunity. 

The  Clymers  were  about  to  bring  a  new  element  into 
their  operations. 

Aunt  Vera  had  bethought  herself  of  her  duty  to  her 
niece. 

A  young  girl,  to  educate  among  the  best,  to  make 
association  among  the  best,  to  help  them  draw  upon 
their  future  by  a  hold  upon  the  coming  social  order  al 
ways  forming  and  rapidly  succeeding;  to  entertain  for 
her,  to  make  motive  and  centre  of  her  for  what  they 
could  not  speedily  and  outright  do  for  themselves,  — 
this  would  be  a  fine  idea  and  work,  at  once  of  gener 
osity,  kindness,  and  utility. 


14  SQUARE  PEGS. 

So  the  big  gray  horses  were  put  to  the  barouche,  — 
only  two  other  families  on  Mount  Street  then  kept  a  car 
riage  and  pair,  — were  driven  around  in  the  early  fore 
noon  from  the  stables,  and  bore  Mrs.  Clymer  away  along 
River  Street  to  Royston  Bridge  and  over  into  the  wide, 
pleasant  country. 

At  this  moment  of  the  story  they  stand,  flinging  up 
their  heads  and  rattling  their  bright  harness,  before 
Miss  Charlock's  front  gate,  under  the  elms.  A  school- 
house  nearly  opposite  has  just  poured  forth  its  little 
rustic  crowd,  which  loiters  in  curious,  astonished  groups, 
seeing  the  gay  equipage  arid  taking  in  its  wonderful  de 
tails,  then  scattering  and  running  on,  up  and  down  the 
street,  to  tell  it  all  in  various  homes. 

The  nearer  homes  await  no  telling;  the  news  has 
announced  itself. 

Nobody  had  pulled  up  a  front  blind.  The  windows  of 
the  best  rooms  were  blank,  the  doorways  were  indiffer 
ent  ;  but  from  behind  the  curtain  edges  the  housewives 
who  would  not  stare  had  peeped  and  wondered,  watch 
ing  from  every  little  while  to  while,  between  the  turn 
ing  of  their  steaks  or  bacon,  and  dishing  up  of  their 
potatoes,  and  later  during  the  washing  up,  to  see  what 
would  come  of  it ;  what  would  be  done  with  the  u  team, " 
how  long  it  would  stay,  and  who  would  go  away  at  last. 

"Do  you  s'pose  she's  come  for  the  gurl?"  Mrs. 
Speering  was  asking  of  her  spouse,  to  whom  she  reached 
his  midday  bowl  of  tea  across  the  table. 

"I  don't  s'pose.  I  leave  that  to  the  women.  S'po- 
sin'  never  alters  nor  settles  anything;  news  is  bound  to 
come  along  in  time,  'n'  it  don't  alwers  signify,  neither. 
I  c'n  gener'ly  wait,  's  well  's  not." 

"'Less  it's  fer  your  dinner  —  or  the  'lections. 
News  ain't  news  when  it  only  comes  afterwords, "  re 
plied  the  lady,  unconsciously  pronouncing  a  pun.  "I 
like  a  little  inklin',  all  to  myself;  'n'  so  do  you,  — only 
you  won't  never  talk  it  over."  Which  undoubtedly 


THE  OTHER  AUNT.  15 

may  be  the  true  masculine  and  feminine  of  that  interest 
in  affairs  commonly  set  down  as  gossip. 

Meanwhile  the  gray  horses  waited;  the  stately  driver 
sat  statuesque  upon  his  box;  there  were  deepening  hoof- 
holes  in  the  soft  turf  close  before  the  gate ;  inside  the 
house  was  commotion  of  suddenly  broached  plan,  flurried 
consideration.  Miss  Esther  Charlock  was  put  about, 
irresolute. 

"Let 's  have  our  dinner,  anyhow, "  she  said.  "You  '11 
have  to  make  out  with  what  there  is,  I  guess;  but  it  's 
hot  and  ready,  and  better  now  than  't  will  ever  be 
again. " 

So  the  horses  and  the  coachman  were  sent  round  to 
the  old  Stillwick  tavern,  and  the  two  aunts,  with  their 
jointly  appertaining  niece,  sat  down  to  these  few  excel 
lent  things:  a  spider-cake,  newly  taken  from  the  fire 
in  its  perfection  of  light  crispiness,  split  and  buttered ; 
a  square  of  broiled  salmon,  delicately  done  to  an  even 
outside  brown  and  an  even  inside  pink;  a  dish  of  dried- 
apple  sauce,  stewed  with  orange  peel ;  a  rhubarb  pie 
which  had  been  meant  for  Sunday  (Friday  was  Miss 
Charlock's  baking  day),  and  a  little  pot  of  steaming 
coffee. 

Over  these,  growing  comfortable,  they  discussed  af 
fairs  more  at  leisure. 


CHAPTER  III. 

BOILING    UP,     AND    SIMMERING    DOWN. 

"You  'VE  come  down  upon  us  almost  like  a  hurri 
cane,  "  said  Miss  Charlock,  handing  a  cup  of  coffee  to 
Mrs.  Clymer,  and  beginning  to  help  the  broiled  salmon. 
"Estabel,  just  dish  out  the  apple  sauce,  will  you?  " 

This  was  evidently  to  give  the  girl  other  occupation 
than  that  of  looking  from  one  to  the  other  of  her  aunts 
with  rapidly  distending  eyes.  She  took  the  spoon  that 
was  placed  beside  the  sauce  dish,  scooped  with  it  a  big 
piece  of  butter  from  the  pat  upon  a  plate  close  by,  and 
was  about  transferring  it  to  the  glass  saucer  set  for  the 
apple,  when  her  Aunt  Esther  stopped  her. 

"What  on  earth  are  you  setting  out  to  do  with 
that?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"I  don't  know.  I  don't  seem  to  know  what 's  going 
to  be  done  with  anything.  I  seem  to  be  helped  round 
myself,  pretty  much  as  it  happens, "  returned  the  girl, 
half  laughing,  half  ashamed,  dropping  her  hands  into 
her  lap. 

Miss  Esther  laughed  too.  She  enjoyed  the  child's 
bright  ways,  inconsequent  and  perplexing  as  she  was. 
In  truth,  she  did  not  at  all  like  to  give  her  up. 

"You'll  know  as  soon  as  it  gets  straightened  out," 
she  answered.  "All  that  I've  come  to  yet,  is  that  my 
sister-in-law-in-law  wants  to  take  her  turn  with  you. 
You  're  to  go  to  Topthorpe  —  I  suppose." 

"When  it  all  gets  round  to  me,  shall  I  have  any  say 
about  it  ?  "  asked  Estabel  demurely. 

"That'll  depend.  I  don't  know 's  you  will,  and  I 
don't  know  as  you  will." 


BOILING   UP,  AND   SIMMERING   DOWN.       17 

When  Aunt  Esther  tried  to  be  antithetical,  she  was 
very  apt  to  be  repetitive.  She  had  no  impediment  of 
speech,  but  she  labored  under  certain  lapses  of  construc 
tion. 

Estabel  turned  to  her  other  aunt. 

"When,  Aunt  Vera?  "  she  asked. 

"Why,  to-day,  I  thought.  But  Aunt  Esther  seems 
to  think  it  too  much  in  a  hurry. " 

"Of  course  it  is,"  put  in  that  lady.  "It's  like  a 
ball  rolled  in  among  a  lot  of  ninepins.  Everything 
goes  every  which  way.  There  's  her  new  gown  to  finish 
and  all  her  things  to  look  through  —  guess  it  will  be 
looking  through  considerable,  with  the  holes  and  tears; 
and  they  '11  be  all  round  the  lot,  as  usual;  and  there  's 
a  decent  good-by  to  say.  We  don't  send  round  cards 
here  in  Stillwick.  We  were  going  to  Henslee  Place 
to-morrow. " 

"  Oh,  were  we,  Aunt  Esther  ?  "  Estabel  exclaimed 
impetuously. 

"I  was  aimin'  to,"  Aunt  Esther  answered  dryly. 
"You  'd  have  known  when  my  mind  was  made  up." 

Aunt  Esther's  mind  was  never  open  to  inspection  in 
the  making.  Half  her  annoyance  at  the  present  mo 
ment  was  that  she  had  been  surprised  into  the  process, 
and  that  it  must  be  carried  on  in  public.  She  liked 
leisurely  considerations,  and  decisive  acts  or  announce 
ments.  "Put  your  needle  in  deliberately  and  then  pull 
the  thread  as  smart  as  you  please, "  was  her  saying  as 
to  any  kind  of  work. 

"Whether  or  no,"  she  went  on,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Clymer,  "Estabel  oughtn't  to  go  away  without  a  word. 
Lucy  Henslee  wouldn't  like  it.  Let  her  wait  through 
the  fore  part  of  the  week.  It  's  likely  I  may  go  up 
to  the  city  by  Wednesday  or  Thursday.  Monday  and 
Tuesday  are  my  easy  days  in  the  shop,  and  I  can  attend 
to  fixing  her  up.  Other  times  —  there's  the  bell  this 
minute !  All  creation  —  and  Electry  Speering  —  will 


18  SQUARE   PEGS. 

be  in,  now  you  're  here.  I  never  know  whether  my 
soul  's  my  own." 

And  Miss  Charlock  set  down  her  cup  of  coffee,  which 
she  had  held  poised  before  her  lips  while  speaking, 
pushed  back  her  chair,  and  hurried  out  of  the  room  and 
across  the  little  passage  to  the  door  that  opened  down 
two  steps,  into  the  shop  behind  the  counter. 

"I  wanted  you  to  go  back  with  me,"  said  Aunt  Vera 
to  the  girl.  ''There  '11  be  plenty  to  do  there,  too,  to 
get  you  ready.  It  's  the  last  of  July,  and  school  begins 
in  September,  and  I  want  you  a  while  first  for  a  number 
of  reasons.  Besides,  when  I  set  out  for  a  thing,  I  do 
hate  not  to  carry  it  through.  But  I  suppose  we  mustn't 
worry  Aunt  Esther." 

"Am  I  going  to  school,  Aunt  Vera?     In  Topthorpe?  " 

The  near  future  was  rearing  itself  in  successive  ranges 
of  high  expectation,  in  the  suddenly  opened  vista  before 
Estabel's  vision. 

"I  began  to  think  it  was  high  time,"  returned  Mrs. 
Clymer.  "You  must  have  got  pretty  near  through  with 
all  you  can  do  here  in  Stillwick.  Sha'n't  you  like  it?  " 

Estabel  gave  her  an  unexpected  answer.  She  jumped 
up  from  her  seat,  rattling  her  knife  and  fork  off  her 
plate  to  the  floor,  rushed  around  the  little  table,  to  the 
serious  threatening  of  the  entire  arrangement,  and  threw 
her  arms  around  Aunt  Vera's  neck. 

"  Like  it  ?  You  dear  aunt !  What  else  could  I  do 
but  like  it,  —  being  dug  up  and  brought  to  life  ?  " 

".ZVbwwhat?"  demanded  Miss  Charlock,  reentering 
in  time  to  hear  the  ghastly  comparison.  "I  suppose 
the  entire  cat  is  out  of  the  bag,  by  the  yowling  and 
clawing.  You  'd  better  go  back  to  your  seat,  Estabel, 
and  simmer  down." 

Estabel  slipped  back  to  her  chair,  pushed  away  her 
plate,  laid  one  arm,  rounded  out,  upon  the  table,  and 
planting  the  other  elbow  beside  it,  made  a  saucepan  in 
dumb  crambo,  by  thrusting  the  hand  up  at  a  slant ; 


BOILING   UP,  AND  SIMMERING   DOWN.       19 

then  she  put  her  face  down  into  the  hollow,  and  began 
a  bubble  —  bubble  —  bubble,  —  plop,  plop,  —  like  a 
furious  boil,  between  whose  ebullitions  she  appealed 
pleadingly :  —  "If  you  don't  —  bubble  —  bubble  —  stir 
me  up,  —  plop,  plop !  —  I  shall  —  bubble  —  bubble  — 
bubble  —  boil  over!  I  can't  help  it." 

"I  guess  a  good  shake  will  do."  And  Aunt  Esther 
came  to  the  rescue,  seizing  the  illustrative  saucepan 
handle,  which  she  switched  to  and  fro  vigorously. 
"Hush  up!" 

A  mingled  laugh  and  gurgle  and  soft  hiss,  dying 
down  to  silence,  obeyed. 

"Take  me  off,  Aunt  Esther,  and  pour  me  out!  I 
mean,  pour  yourself  out!  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

Her  eyes  shone  with  pleasure  and  fun,  as  she  lifted 
her  head  and  looked  from  one  aunt  to  the  other. 

"Behave  like  a  reasonable  being!  "  ordered  Miss 
Charlock,  in  sublime  displeasure. 

She  would  not  be  amused  with  this.  She  was  hurt 
at  the  child's  delight  in  leaving  her. 

Estabel's  eyes  changed  their  look.  "I  'm  sorry, 
auntie,"  she  said.  "I  was  only  coming  round  by  de 
grees,  you  know,  as  I  thought  you  wanted  me  to.  I  'm 
all  simmered  down  —  really  and  truly.  I  couldn't 
help  being  glad;  and  I  couldn't  realize  both  ends  at 
once.  But, "  she  whispered,  laying  her  head  against 
Miss  Esther's  shoulder,  "I  didn't  mean  that  there 
weren't  any  good  times  with  you." 

"Well,  that'll  do,"  said  Miss  Esther,  putting  her 
off,  with  a  slight  but  not  unkindly  repellent  motion. 
"Everything  's  an  experiment.  You  've  come  back  be 
fore,  and  you  may  again." 

"Cats  —  and  bad  pennies  —  always  do.  I  shall  not 
forget  the  way,  Aunt  Ettie."  And  as  if  to  leave  a 
break,  to  paragraph  the  conversation  at  a  new  point 
later,  she  went  off  out  of  the  room. 

"I  don't  sometimes  feel  positively  sure  whether  tliat 


20  SQUARE  PEGS. 

child  is  five  years  old  or  fifteen, "  said  Miss  Charlock 
to  her  sister-in-law-in-law. 

"Or  fifty,"  suggested  Mrs.  Clymer.  "She  's  a  queer 
mixture  of  bahy  and  woman.  She  wants  companions 
of  her  own  age." 

"  Maybe, "  said  Miss  Charlock  stiffly ;  and  began 
gathering  up  her  dishes. 

Estabel  rejoined  her  in  the  kitchen,  and  helped  her 
with  the  wiping  up. 

"You  needn't  go  to  imagining,  and  then  getting  dis 
appointed,  "  said  Miss  Esther,  after  a  brief  dignified 
silence  "over  the  teacups."  "You  're  always  trying  to 
walk  on  moonshine.  You  don't  understand  common 
facts.  You  think  things  are  when  they  ain't,  and  when 
they  ain't  you  think  they  are." 

"Yes,  auntie,"  said  Estabel  demurely. 

"How  do  you  expect  to  get  through  the  world  that 
way  ?  " 

"Pretty  well,  I  guess;  if  I  don't  ever  think  things 
ain't  when  they  are." 

"You  do.      That 's  what  I  said." 

"I  thought  it  was  what  you  said  n't." 

"Chooty  —  choo!  You're  always  quiddlin'.  But  I 
know  what  I  mean." 

"And  so  do  I,"  said  Estabel,  throwing  her  arm  and 
a  damp  towel,  suddenly  around  Miss  Charlock's  neck. 
"You  mean  to  be  real  good  to  me,  and  you  don't  want 
me  to  be  unhappy.  I  shall  never  imagine  the  wrong 
way  about  that." 

"Maybe  you  'd  better  go  back  to  your  other  aunt 
now,"  said  Miss  Charlock  a  little  unsteadily.  "She  '11 
wonder  what  we  're  consultin'  up." 

Estabel  snapped  a  little  kiss  under  Aunt  Esther's 
ear,  and  departed. 

Aunt  Esther  picked  up  the  damp  towel,  and  dabbed 
it  across  her  face. 

"It 's  as  good  as  all  over  now,"  she  said.      "It  had 


BOILING   UP,  AND   SIMMERING  DOWN.      21 

to  come.  I  ain't  complainin'.  Only  she  don't  know; 
I  did  n't  hardly  know  before,  myself.  She  '11  grow  to 
it,  and  look  back;  that  's  what  we  're  all  doin',  all  our 
lives  long.  Seems  to  me  we  're  on  the  fore  seat  of  the 
coach  the  whole  journey.  Once  in  a  while  it 's  apt  to 
make  folks  feel  squeamy." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    HEXSLEES. 

IT  was  settled  that  Estabel  should  remain  for  a  few 
days  longer  at  Stillwick,  and  that  on  the  Wednesday 
or  Thursday  following,  Miss  Charlock  should  bring  her 
to  Topthorpe  in  the  stage. 

"I  must  have  gone  before  long,"  Miss  Esther  said, 
"and  it  might  as  well  be  then.  I  want  some  lining 
silks,  and  dress  buttons,  and  woostids.  I  'm  all  out  of 
shaded  greens.  Yes;  I  '11  be  along  by  Wednesday,  or 
Thursday  at  the  outside." 

Mrs.  Clymer  had  to  be  satisfied. 

It  was  before  the  days  when  every  little  outlying 
village  had  its  hourly  train  by  steam  to  the  metropolis. 
Stillwick  lay  apart,  between  two  of  the  great  railroad 
ribs  that  intersected  the  State ;  in  a  lobe,  as  it  were,  of 
the  leaf  so  clasped  together  by  the  iron  skeleton  lines. 
It  was  a  good  while  before  the  slenderer  network  of 
country  roads  and  pikes  was  replaced  by  the  branching 
reticulations  that  cut  across  everywhere  to-day,  in  won 
derful,  confusing  simplification  of  consolidated  systems. 
The  twelve  miles  between  Stillwick  and  Topthorpe  were 
traversed  in  and  out,  morning  and  night,  by  the  street 
car  antetype,  the  long  omnibus,  still  called  "the  stage." 
It  held  fourteen.  Even  so,  it  was  rarely  full.  It  is 
difficult  for  us,  who  can  clearly  remember  these  things, 
to  realize  that  our  own  lives  cover  all  the  quickly  suc 
ceeding  changes  from  the  heavy  coach  for  nine  inside  to 
rapid  transit  over  the  same  roads  every  day  for  thou 
sands  by  the  electric  wave. 

Estabel  would  far  rather  have  gone  in  luxurious  state, 


THE   HENSLEES.  23 

in  the  open  barouche,  for  the  long  drive  through  the 
Marsden  woods  and  the  sweet  azalea  swamps,  and  over 
the  long  bridge  into  the  quiet  end  of  the  big  city,  —  it 
wasn't  so  very  big,  then,  except  relatively,  and  that 
way  isn't  so  very  much  bigger  now,  compared  with 
Greater  Everything ;  —  turning  off  along  the  pleasant 
river  thoroughfare  into  which  Mount  Street  and  its 
parallels  ran  down,  and  arriving  grandly  at  the  very 
door,  —  than  to  go  pitching  and  racketing  all  the  way 
in  the  long,  covered-up,  musty  stage,  with  her  feet  in 
the  straw  and  her  back  to  half  the  prettiness  along  the 
road,  and  then  have  to  keep  on  down  the  Bridge 
Avenue,  to  the  business  heart  of  Topthorpe. 

But  Henslee  Place  was  a  heavy  weight  in  the  other 
scale ;  and  she  had  no  choice  about  it,  either. 

Henslee  Place  lay  upon  the  other  side  of  the  wide 
piece  of  woodland  across  the  brook.  A  near  bit  of  this 
woodland  belonged  to  Miss  Charlock's  modest  estate; 
just  enough  for  her  to  cut  firewood  from  without  fear 
of  absolutely  clearing  away  the  lovely  shade ;  the  greater 
part  was  the  extension  on  this  side  of  the  Henslee  pro 
perty.  The  brook  wound  through  the  whole  with  charm 
ing  bends,  the  path  from  the  Charlock  meadows  crossing 
it  twice. 

The  Henslee  house  was  in  that  border  of  Stillwick 
which  approached  the  bay,  near  the  mouth  of  Stillwick 
River,  into  which  the  brook  with  its  clear  tribute  pre 
sently  ran. 

Farther  down  was  a  shipyard,  where  in  years  past 
vessels  of  the  early  simple  order  had  been  built  and 
launched  for  the  then  lively  trade  of  the  neighboring 
town  of  Peaceport,  by  the  brothers  Henslee,  of  the  last 
generation,  one  of  whom,  the  father  of  Colonel  Henslee, 
had  built  also  the  generous  mansion  standing  between  the 
quiet  country  side  and  the  busy  shore.  The  uncle  had 
never  married,  and  the  handsome  double  inheritance 
had  fallen  accordingly  to  its  present  owner. 


24  SQUARE  PEGS. 

The  business  at  the  shore  had  changed.  The  ship 
yard  was  no  longer  such,  but  had  been  long  occupied 
on  a  lease  of  twenty  years,  as  a  lumber  wharf.  Col 
onel  Henslee  had  so  disposed  of  it,  with  the  assent  of 
his  son,  a  prospering  Topthorpe  merchant ;  that  gentle 
man's  business  having  not  yet  grown  to  such  dimen 
sions,  or  taken  precisely  such  direction,  as  to  suggest 
including  building  combinations.  "Everything  may 
come  round  again  in  good  time,"  the  old  colonel  had 
said  to  him.  "When  the  lease  is  up,  Harry  will  be 
of  age,  and  it  will  probably  have  come  into  your  hands. 
Then  you  can  together  do  what  you  think  fit." 

Secluded  from  both  shore  and  village,  in  an  open 
glade  of  its  own  little  forest,  the  high  road  bending 
around  it  some  furlong  or  more  away,  a  private  drive 
giving  access  thence,  which  wound  on  to  join  the  high 
way  again  near  Centre  Village,  the  homestead  house 
represented  a  certain  old  world  dignity,  and  gave  its 
name  and  consequence  to  the  whole  immediate  neighbor 
hood.  The  lower  end  of  the  town  was  called  Henslee 
Corner. 

From  Miss  Charlock's  cottage  to  the  Place  there  was 
a  distance  of  a  mile  and  a  half  by  the  open  road,  les 
sened  to  three  quarters  of  a  mile  by  taking  the  sweet 
woodway,  which  of  course  in  summer  was  always  done 
in  walking.  And  it  was  only  in  summer  that  Miss 
Charlock  ordinarily  made  visits  to  Cousin  Lucy.  So 
that  perhaps  only  once  or  twice  in  a  season  Estabel  ever 
had  the  pleasure  of  what  was  to  her  like  walking  into 
some  charming  dream  or  story. 

The  wife  of  Colonel  Henslee  had  been  a  Charlock; 
and  the  Charlocks  had  been  more  proud  of  their  side 
of  the  alliance  than  of  the  high  state  into  which  at  the 
time  it  had  seemed  to  lift  the  lady,  for  Eleanor  Char 
lock  had  been  a  great  beauty.  Her  father,  Dr.  Char 
lock,  had  a  good  practice  in  Topthorpe,  but  it  was 
without  special  prestige  or  claim,  by  other  than  her  own 


THE  HENSLEES.  25 

supreme  personal  charm,  that  his  daughter  had  been 
taken  up  into  Topthorpe  society  of  the  choicest,  and 
there  idolized ;  had  shone  for  two  brilliant  winters,  a 
star  in  the  constellation  of  the  zenith ;  had  had  her 

picture  painted  by  A ,  and  visited  in  his  rooms  by 

continual  crowds  of  friends,  and  of  outside  people  who 
never  saw  her  actually  as  there  represented,  —  in  her 
beautiful  ball  dress  of  pale  green  silk,  shimmering,  deli 
cate,  like  young  birch  leaves  in  the  early  summer,  and 
the  clusters  of  violets  in  her  sunny  hair  and  among  the 
laces  on  her  bosom.  The  picture  hung  now  in  the  great 
hall  at  Henslee  Place ;  and  before  it  Estabel  Charlock 
stood  and  worshiped,  in  every  possible  moment  of  her 
rare  visits. 

Old  Colonel  Henslee  was  a  feeble  man  now,  past 
eighty;  his  daughter  Lucy,  who  had  had  much  of  her 
mother's  beauty  in  her  younger  days,  and  was  now  a 
gently  faded,  graceful  woman  of  fifty,  had  never  mar 
ried,  and  was  companion  and  nurse  to  her  father,  living 
with  him  in  a  quietness  that  seemed  dead  to  lookers  on, 
who  wondered  at  her  serene  patience ;  but  that  was 
filled,  as  all  true  quietness  under  the  hand  of  God  is 
sure  to  be,  with  a  peace  and  promise  that  are  not  for 
any  eager  bustle  or  successes  of  the  world  to  give. 

Lucy  Henslee  was  a  devoted  daughter  and  a  loving 
sister.  The  character  and  well-earned  position  of  the 
Topthorpe  merchant  were  her  joy  and  pride.  He  re 
presented  to  her  all  the  growing  greatness  of  the  yet 
comparatively  young  city,  to  whose  growth,  indeed,  he 
contributed  a  strong  force  and  a  certain  personal  as 
well  as  commercial  leadership.  His  one  son,  Harry, 
just  out  of  school,  where  he  had  had  the  best  practical 
education  of  the  day,  not  choosing  a  college  course  and 
a  profession,  which  were  then  held  more  distinct  than 
now  from  a  training  and  occupation  in  affairs,  was  in 
a  counting-house  clerkship  with  the  solid,  old-fashioned 
firm  of  Blunt  and  Sterne,  neighbors  of  Henslee  and  Com- 


26  SQUARE   PEGS. 

pany  on  the  same  wharf;  his  father  wisely  determining 
that  he  should  have  the  regular  discipline  of  a  good 
apprenticeship,  with  none  of  the  possible  or  inferential 
advantages  or  indulgences  of  his  own  office. 

The  boy  was  a  bright  fellow  of  eighteen,  the  pride 
and  pleasure  of  his  Aunt  Lucy,  with  whom  he  spent 
most  of  his  holidays,  having  the  run  and  freedom  of  the 
whole  place,  and  all  thereon  and  therein ;  this  only  re 
presenting  what  was  likely  to  come  to  him  in  actual 
eventual  proprietorship.  It  was  a  safe  relaxation ;  the 
youth  was  clean  and  free  of  all  more  doubtful  or  danger 
ous  divertisement. 

Estabel  and  Harry  had  been  good  comrades  in  other 
years,  when  the  long  school  vacations  had  brought  him 
to  Stillwick.  Aunt  Esther  in  those  days  had  more 
often  taken  the  little  girl  to  Henslee  Place ;  there  had 
begun  to  be  a  difference  in  the  freedom  of  visits  since 
the  young  second  cousins  had  got  into  their  teens. 
There  was  a  little  complication  of  reasons  for  this, 
which  bore  instinctively  upon  Miss  Esther's  judgment 
without  direct  analyzing,  and  to  Estabel  would  not  be 
patent  at  all. 

Miss  Charlock  perceived  that  her  niece  was  fast  grow 
ing  up  in  one  way,  while  in  another  and  more  important 
sense  she  showed  only  very  uncertainly  that  she  grew  at 
all.  It  was  not  an  advantageous  time  with  her.  It 
was  better  —  more  improving,  Miss  Charlock  said  to 
herself  —  that  she  should  go  to  Henslee  Place  when 
only  Aunt  Lucy  was  there,  and  for  at  least  a  part  of 
the  day  sit  down  quietly  at  her  needlework  with  her  two 
elders,  or  be  allowed  to  read  to  them,  which  she  did 
willingly  and  very  well,  than  to  keep  on  scouring  the 
woods  or  paddling  in  the  brook  and  fishpond  with  the 
tall  fellow  who  had  got  out  of  school  and  round  jackets, 
and  into  frock- tails  and  a  store.  Underneath  was  also 
a  motive,  —  if  that  which  was  not  permitted  to  move 
anything  may  be  called  a  motive,  —  an  instinct  of  re- 


THE  HENSLEES.  27 

straint  springing  from  a  consciousness  she  did  not  care 
to  define,  —  that  some  time  or  other,  something  might 
happen  so,  —  or  she  might  he  imagined  to  be  thinking 
that  it  might  happen,  —  that  a  Charlock  should  again 
be  mistress  of  the  grand  old  Henslee  house  and  its  sur 
roundings. 

Estabel  was  by  no  means  just  yet  in  the  phase  of  her 
girlhood  which  such  possibility  would  be  most  likely  to 
approach;  she  had  "got  ever  so  much  to  come  to,"  Miss 
Charlock  realized  and  often  said  within  herself;  it  was 
wiser  to  keep  her  back,  in  her  raw  unformedness,  from 
premature  exposure  to  any  outside  judgment ;  which  last 
reason,  more  specific  than  she  would  have  allowed,  lay 
secretly  perhaps  at  the  root  of  the  whole  argument. 
Miss  Esther  Charlock  was  a  very  good  woman ;  she  was 
also,  as  far  as  her  light  and  experience  went,  a  very 
judicious  one. 

For  their  present  outing  they  took  Saturday,  usually 
a  very  busy  day  in  the  shop ;  but  Miss  Charlock  had 
anticipated  by  extra  industry,  and  all  the  trimmings 
and  finishings  she  had  promised  for  the  week  were  ac 
complished  and  ready  for  delivery ;  and  her  neighbor 
and  occasional  substitute,  Eliza  Gillespy,  would  come 
over  and  sit  behind  the  counter  with  her  quilt-piecing, 
for  which  Miss  Charlock  gave  her  liberal  privilege  with 
the  scrap- drawer,  that  held  such  richness  of  small  ribbon 
ends  and  gown  snips.  Also  there  was  laid  for  her  in 
the  corner  parlor  a  nice  little  cold  luncheon,  —  ham 
and  bread  and  butter  and  custard,  —  with  tea  ready  in 
the  brown  teapot,  for  which  she  could  put  a  stick  into 
the  stove  and  boil  water  to  brew  for  herself.  The  an 
ticipation  of  all  which  rejoiced  Eliza's  heart,  or  some 
part  of  her  economy  close  by. 

Moreover,  though  she  would  not  deliberately  go  pry 
ing  round,  —  she  was  above  all  that,  thank  goodness, 
—  she  had  a  lively,  healthy  interest  in  whatever  might 
casually  be  manifest  behind  the  scenes;  she  loved  her 


28  SQUARE  PEGS. 

neighbors'  affairs  as  she  loved  her  own,  which  was  good 
Christian  feeling,  and  honorably  gratified  by  this  inti 
macy  of  service. 

Miss  Gillespy  was  about  to  have  a  very  important  and 
delightful  day,  not  the  least  bit  lonesome,  she  knew; 
for  her  being  there  would  bring  more  or  less  dropping-in 
company  of  her  own  sympathetic  sort,  and  custom,  she 
argued  friendlily,  to  the  counter.  She  was  indeed  gen 
erously  ambitious  to  make  a  good  day's  sale,  and  of 
this  Miss  Charlock  was,  on  her  part,  comfortably  aware. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    MORNING    WOOD-WALK. 

ESTABEL  was  by  no  means  to  wear  her  best  dress  to 
Henslee  Place.  There  was  but  one  for  her  to  begin 
with  in  Topthorpe ;  and  there  were  too  much  woods  and 
water,  too  much  fruit  shrubbery  and  orchard  at  Cousin 
Lucy's,  to  trust  her  in  with  choice  apparel. 

The  best  dress,  —  except  one  "veriest-best  "  silk,  — 
was  a  pale  fawn-colored  chally,  with  delicate  crimson 
and  dark-green  sprigs.  When  she  wore  this  she  was 
quite  fine,  but  in  an  elegant  duress.  She  was  far  hap 
pier  in  her  French  print,  of  a  close-running  brown  figure 
on  a  white  ground.  Aunt  Esther  made  her  take  a 
sleeved  apron,  too,  to  put  on  as  might  be  needed. 

Aunt  Esther  could  not  see  everything,  look  the  girl 
over  as  she  would.  Estabel  had  great  dread  of  delays 
when  pleasure  was  on  foot.  She  would  pin  out  of  sight 
a  pinnable  rent ;  she  would  move  with  cautious  quietness 
when  the  hem  of  her  white  skirt  was  not  quite  beyond 
suspicion ;  she  would  keep  one  glove  in  her  hand  until 
they  were  well  on  their  way  and  she  was  admonished  to 
put  it  on,  because  of  a  rip  which  she  might  have  been 
at  the  last  minute  sent  upstairs  to  mend.  "You  never 
see  Cousin  Lucy  with  a  rip  in  her  glove, "  Aunt  Esther 
would  say. 

Aunt  Esther  had  learned  to  be  wary  of  unusual  se- 
dateness. 

"What  is  it  this  time?  "  she  demanded,  on  the  Satur 
day  morning  when  they  were  leaving  the  house,  and 
Estabel  demurely  kept  behind  her,  instead  of  dancing 


30  SQUARE   PEGS. 

along  down  the  field.  She  had  already  discovered  a 
long  opening  in  the  seam  of  a  stocking,  and  had  sewed 
it  up  with  the  leg  across  her  lap,  while  Estabel,  only 
half  dressed,  stood  stork-fashion,  with  excellent  poise 
and  entire  composure. 

"There  's  something,  yet,"  declared  Miss  Charlock. 

"Oh,  no,  I  guess  not.  I  'm  all  right  enough."  And 
Estabel  chasseed  round  in  front  of  her  aunt  with  a 
prancing  curve  that  kept  her  face  to  face,  and  skipped 
backward,  lifting  the  skirt  of  her  frock  above  the  im 
maculate  ruffle  of  her  petticoat.  But  there  was  a  pin 
behind  in  the  placket-slip,  which  would  otherwise  have 
extended  far  toward  the  hem. 

Estabel  was  not  willfully  deceptive ;  she  was  curiously 
frank  and  truthful,  when  brought  to  the  question,  in 
anything  essential ;  her  ideas  of  essentials  were  different 
from  Miss  Charlock's,  that  was  all;  she  really  thought 
her  way  of  repairing  mishaps  was  as  good  as  any,  if  she 
could  only  be  let  alone.  She  was  always  quite  confident 
of  her  little  defects  being  secure  from  ordinary  observa 
tion  ;  the  only  thing  was  to  escape  a  military  inspection. 
Estabel  had  not  come  yet  to  that  deep-reaching,  inclu 
sive  development  of  the  truth  actually  in  her,  which  in 
after  life  made  her  precise  and  orderly  to  the  most 
hidden  stitch  and  the  innermost  corner.  Truth  and 
thoroughness  had  not  revealed  to  her  their  beautiful 
identity. 

"You  ivon't  be  all  right  enough,  if  you  don't  look 
where  you're  going,  and  keep  on  the  path,"  returned 
Miss  Charlock,  as  at  this  moment  they  came  to  the 
crossing  of  the  brook,  and  entered  the  wood-hollow. 
And  Estabel  obeyed,  falling  behind  again ;  for  it  would 
not  be  well  to  brush  too  carelessly  against  a  bush,  or 
risk  the  losing  of  the  one  small  pin,  which  was  all  she 
had  been  able,  in  her  hurry,  to  find.  It  would  be  ter 
rible  to  have  to  turn  back  now. 

The  wood-hollow  was  lovely,  —  full  of  ferns,  and  low- 


A  MORNING   WOOD-WALK.  31 

running  vines,  and  catbrier  climbing  and  tangling  among 
elders  and  young  birches ;  tall  pines  and  hemlocks  spring 
ing  in  fine  upward  parallels  and  making  charming  vistas 
that  unrolled  their  changes  at  every  step  through  the 
apparently  endless  reaches  of  forest  growth,  not  dense 
enough  to  be  impenetrable  or  gloomy  anywhere ;  under 
foot,  the  crisp  or  velvety  mosses,  the  brown  pine  nee 
dles,  the  shining  little  creeping  vines ;  the  summer  sun 
light  glimmering  down  into  aisles  and  recesses  above 
which  lifted  the  far,  still  arches  of  the  blue;  across 
these,  here  and  there,  a  white  cloud  floating ;  a  veery 
sending  its  sweet,  pathetic  warble  from  some  unseen 
height ;  a  savanna  sparrow  lisping  his  "  sip,  sip,  sip, " 
from  the  brushwood  of  a  warm  hollow ;  a  peewee  thrust 
ing  his  sharp  little  reiterated  two  notes  persistently 
across  melody  or  silence ;  along  with  the  rest,  more  or 
less  distinctly  as  the  path  wound  near  or  far,  the  happy 
tinkle  of  the  brook,  making  its  way  onward  like  a  liv 
ing  hope,  into  things  unknown  but  great  and  sure ;  — 
all  these  made  up  a  parable  of  deliciousness  and  imme 
diate  satisfying  and  unstinted  promise  to  the  young 
heart  so  freshly  in  tune,  with  strings  unslackened  and 
unstrained,  which  carried  the  young  feet  along  so  lightly, 
that  keeping  after  Miss  Charlock's  heavier,  slower  step 
in  the  often  narrowing  way,  they  could  but  lilt  and 
spring,  unseen,  in  relief  of  eager,  undemanded  energy. 

It  was  a  rapture  of  sameness  — -  a  sameness  that  might 
have  lasted  the  day  through  without  tiring  —  the  same 
ness  of  a  quiet  ecstasy. 

Estabel  was  gladder  in  it  than  commonly;  she  had 
something  in  reserve.  One  pleasure  is  intensified  by  an 
other  on  its  certain  way ;  she  had  a  new  delight  in  her 
own  life  to  match  with  the  jubilance  of  bird  and  brook 
and  growing  green ;  a  pervading  sense,  subtler  than 
sound  or  sight  or  smell,  identified  itself  with  tones  and 
things  and  fragrances ;  something  freshened  and  per 
fumed  all  her  quickened  feeling;  it  was  that  she,  like 


32  SQUARE  PEGS. 

the  trees  and  vines,  was  at  last  to  grow,  and  come  to 
be  what  she  was  meant  for,  —  like  the  birds,  to  sing  her 
own  life-song  in  freedom  and  sunshine ;  like  the  brook, 
to  go  on  and  find  other  haunts,  nooks,  openings ;  to  get 
into  the  great,  brave  River  at  last ! 

She  was  going  to  Topthorpe.  That  meant  going  to 
learn,  to  enjoy,  to  have  things  happen  ;  it  meant  seeing 
and  knowing  what  was  in  the  wise  and  gay  and  grown-up 
world  beyond  Stillwick;  beginning  to  grow  up,  herself, 
and  of  course  to  be  wise  and  gay  and  busy. 

It  meant,  first,  and  delightfullest  with  near  delight, 
being  among  others  like  herself;  young  with  the  young; 
with  girls,  girls,  girls  ! 

Estabel's  thought  was  just  brimful  with  that  mono 
syllable.  It  kept  saying  itself  over  and  over  in  inward 
utterance  and  secret  hearing.  The  happy  plural  means 
so  much  to  her  who  is  of  it  in  the  singular,  who  is  a 
part  of  the  beautiful  possibility  that  is  half  the  human 
future.  Girlhood  means  fun  and  friendship ;  it  reaches 
forward  and  holds  all  the  blessed  dream  of  life,  being 
itself  its  pure,  fresh  reenforcement.  It  stands  for  the 
nature  which  is  the  making  of  love  and  home  and 
sweetness ;  the  grace  and  beauty  of  bright  social  inter 
course.  It  is  the  impersonation  of  the  shielded  purity, 
the  gentle  strength,  to  which  a  whole  world  looks  for  its 
sanifying  and  best  maintenance. 

And  the  seeking  of  girlhood  to  girlhood  in  this  open 
ing  promise  of  everything  is  the  most  exquisite  sympathy 
of  the  woman  nature. 

"I  am  going  to  be  a  girl,  among  the  girls!  "  Estabel 
sang  to  herself,  all  this  sweet  morning,  in  the  wood- 
walk. 

Ah,  but  there  are  girls,  —  and  girls ;  as  the  dearest 
lover  of  them  all  must  allow.  The  old  world  still  lays 
its  formative  hand  upon  the  new,  for  the  better  or  the 
worse ;  the  initial  force  may  warp  or  straighten,  but  it 
is  there ;  influence  overlaps ;  history  repeats ;  life  and 


A  MORNING  WOOD-WALK.  33 

motive  illustrate  themselves  over  and  over;  it  is  an  old 
fugue  tune,  an  antiphon ;  fresh  voices  catch  up  word  and 
strain  that  are  never  wholly  dropped ;  society  begins 
itself  again  in  the  schoolroom. 

Estabel  was  going  out  into  the  world ;  what  it  would 
be  to  her  would  depend  upon  where  she  would  be  able 
to  take  it.  All  there  was  here — beauty,  quietness, 
suggestiveness  of  nature,  room  for  happy  imagination 
—  was  open  to  her.  She  supposed  she  was  going  from 
this  into  a  like  yet  larger  freedom ;  she  might  find  she 
was  coming  up  against  certain  closed  doors. 

There  is  a  fairy  tale  in  which  the  heroine  sails  to  an 
enchanted  island;  its  beautiful  shore  lies  stretched  in 
light  before  her ;  its  banks  are  golden  green,  its  flowers 
in  their  sweet  splendor  are  as  jewels ;  its  trees  wave 
majestic,  tender  greeting ;  under  their  arcades  long 
natural  avenues  wind  and  unclose  in  grand,  still  reaches ; 
from  among  them,  distantly  rise  fair  palace  walls,  and 
the  doors  of  them  stand  open ;  she  thinks  she  has  but 
to  disembark  and  enter  into  all.  But  as  she  tries  to 
land,  she  finds  herself  against  an  invisible  wall  of  ada 
mant,  through  which  the  vision  shines ;  the  crystal  barri 
cade  lifts  itself  from  the  water's  edge  to  the  very  sky; 
not  a  bird,  even,  can  fly  over. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HENSLEE    PLACE. 

WHEN  Miss  Charlock  and  Estabel  emerged  from  the 
forest  path  into  the  open  pleasance  about  Henslee  Place, 
crossing  the  brook  at  the  edge  of  the  wood  over  flat 
stepping-stones,  and  passed  around  to  the  stately  front 
upon  the  lawn,  Estabel  relegated  all  else  and  different 
to  a  corner  in  her  mind  which  she  closed  as  upon  a  trea 
sure,  to  be  no  longer  handled  at  the  moment,  but  kept 
for  an  after  drawing  forth  and  delectation.  She  re 
verted  instantly  to  her  childish  delights ;  she  had  a 
whole  day  before  her  to  be  happy  in,  in  the  rare  old 
way.  Perhaps  some  instinct  bade  her  to  make  much  of 
it,  lest  it  might  not  come  just  so  again. 

The  very  face  of  the  old  house  was  grandly  hospi 
table,  invitingly  and  amply  gracious.  A  double  flight 
of  steps  led  up  to  the  door,  curving  from  either  side 
past  the  bricked  basement  to  the  portico  from  which 
opened  the  broad  hall ;  thence  wide  doorways  gave  en 
trance  right  and  left  to  drawing-rooms,  library,  and 
dining-room ;  these  communicating  with  each  other 
through  double  arches  with  folding  doors,  flanking  the 
wide  chimneys.  Between  these  double  arches  were 
shelves  shut  in  with  sliding  sashes,  filled,  as  fitted  the 
neighborhood  in  case,  with  books,  lovely  china,  or  rare 
old  curios. 

Paintings,  not  too  many,  hung  upon  all  the  walls. 
The  furnishings  were  simple  but  solidly  dignified,  ample 
in  form  and  comfort. 

Deep,  luxurious  sofas,  wide  window  seats  well  cush- 


HENSLEE  PLACE.  35 

ioned,  low  rockers,  slight,  graceful  chairs  of  such  work 
manship  that  their  delicate  frames  had  lasted  in  their 
first  perfection  through  three  generations,  tables  of  fine 
old  woods,  cabinets  carved  and  brass  mounted,  round 
convex  mirrors  over  the  chimneys,  silver  sconces  at  the 
corners  of  the  same,  now,  in  summer  time,  huge  Indian 
jars  upon  the  hearths,  filled  with  fresh  greenery  or  tall 
lilies,  or  clouds  of  smoke-tree  and  honesty  blossoms. 

In  the  midst  of  all,  to-day,  and  usually,  Cousin  Lucy, 
quietly  busy  at  her  work  table  with  its  swinging  bag  of 
fluted  green  silk  and  upper  fittings  of  drawers  and  cun 
ning  side  compartments.  A  little  way  off,  nearer  the 
window,  in  his  easy  chair,  the  old,  old  man  who  for 
more  than  fifty  years  had  been  the  master;  who,  most 
wonderful  of  all  to  Estabel,  had  been  the  husband  of 
that  radiant  woman  who  had  never  grown  old,  whose 
full-length  picture  filled  that  wall-space  in  the  hall  op 
posite  the  great  staircase,  and,  as  beseemed  the  mistress 
of  the  mansion,  gave  first  welcome  to  incoming  guest, 
as  if  stepping  forward  with  most  smiling  grace  through 
a  gold-framed  doorway.' 

There  was  enough  here  to  dispel  the  new  and  present 
dream,  and  carry  the  young  girl's  fancy  and  delight 
back  into  what  had  been  heretofore  the  one  fair  visible 
romance  of  her  life. 

They  had  seedcakes  and  some  tiny  glasses  of  Greek 
wine,  while  Colonel  Henslee  took  his  tumbler  of  hot 
wine  whey  and  a  biscuit ;  then  the  needlework  came 
out,  and  the  proper  hour  was  spent  in  hemming  cambric 
and  thriftily  "  transferring  "  French  embroidery  to  fresh 
delicate  muslin,  while  Cousin  Lucy  read  aloud  from 
"  Barnaby  Ruclge, "  and  the  colonel  listened  and  dozed 
in  his  armchair,  and  the  old  clock  on  the  stair-landing 
munched  up  the  minutes  with  a  dry,  regular  grind,  like 
a  cow  cropping  grass. 

Then  came  the  two  o'clock  dinner,  timed  by  order  of 
latest  gentility,  arrived  at  in  long,  gradual  advance 


36  SQUARE  PEGS. 

from  old  New  England  habit,  in  which  the  mornings 
began  with  five  o'clock  breakfasts  after  an  hour  in  field 
and  dairy,  and  the  chief  meal  was  spread  at  eleven  of 
the  forenoon. 

After  that  Estabel  was  free.  The  colonel  took  an 
acknowledged  nap,  and  Cousin  Lucy  led  the  way  out 
into  the  garden,  whose  border  walks  were  shaded  at  near 
regular  intervals  by  outside  trees,  while  its  inner  square 
lay  open  to  the  sun.  The  ladies'  parasols  supplied  all 
other  needed  screen. 

The  descent  toward  the  garden  from  the  house  was 
by  a  flight  of  broad,  shallow,  semi-circular  steps  leading 
from  the  back  portico  to  the  carriage  drive,  which  here 
passed,  between  fine  level  swards  of  grass,  to  the  stables 
at  the  right.  Directly  opposite,  beyond  grass  and 
gravel,  opened  the  little  white  gate  in  the  paling,  Avhich 
gave  entrance  to  the  charming  inclosure.  Within  the 
fence  a  rose  hedge  divided  to  offer  passage. 

A  tour  of  the  garden  was  de  rigueur  in  all  visits  to 
Henslee  Place.  One  was  always  led  to  the  left,  down 
to  the  corner  where  the  roses  gave  place  to  currant  and 
gooseberry  bushes,  these  lining  the  boundary  till  the 
next  turn,  where,  like  a  relief  of  guard,  began  the 
raspberry  vines,  laden  in  their  season  with  amber  and 
crimson  thimbles,  whose  clean  hollows  loosened  them 
selves  from  their  central  cores  at  perfect  ripeness,  and 
dropped  their  pretty  cups  and  balls  in  superfluous  profu 
sion  upon  the  ground  beneath. 

In  the  great  square  of  the  middle  garden  were  straw 
berry  and  asparagus  beds,  outlined  by  rows  of  tall  lilies 
and  sweet  phlox,  larkspur,  hollyhocks,  with  mignonette 
and  ladies'  delights  about  their  feet.  In  the  spring 
there  had  been  daffydowndillies,  tulips,  and  narcissus; 
along  the  inner  edge  of  the  upper  path  was  a  thicket  of 
sweet  peas.  Reaching  this  upper  path,  and  turning  the 
third  corner,  you  might  pass  along  between  grape  trel 
lises  and  a  range  of  beehives  on  the  one  hand,  and  the 


HENSLEE  PLACE.  37 

sweet  peas  on  the  other,  to  the  rose  line,  and  so  down 
to  the  first  entrance;  or  you  might  keep  on,  through  a 
turnstile,  to  the  great  three  acres  of  orchards,  —  cherry, 
and  plum,  peach,  pear,  and  apple ;  the  succession  of 
whose  fruit  offered  bounty  the  whole  summer  through, 
and  into  the  golden  autumn. 

There  were  no  "yellows"  then,  to  blast  the  peach; 
the  curculio  had  not  taken  the  plum  by  eminent  domain ; 
the  Porters  and  the  summer  spice-apples  and  the  pear- 
mains,  the  early  russets  and  the  gorgeous  Baldwins  came 
in  turn  and  in  perfection.  Truly,  the  Henslee  gardens 
were  worth  pilgrimage.  One  cannot  but  pause  to  recall 
in  detail  what  now  remains  but  in  a  fragrant  tradition, 
like  the  legend  of  the  First  Garden. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  emancipation  for  Estabel, 
this  after-dinner  walk;  it  was  almost  perfect  pleasure; 
but  she  was  still  in  conventional  restraint,  behaving 
with  a  careful  propriety  in  the  staid  companionship  of 
her  elders.  The  real  joy  of  liberty  was  when  their  tour 
had  ended,  and  they  reached  the  house  again,  giving 
leave  to  the  child  to  go  her  way  among  the  bees  and  the 
butterflies,  the  birds  and  the  breezes  —  "  only  to  come 
back  whole  —  if  she  could, "  as  Aunt  Esther  charged 
her,  not  without  sarcasm. 

At  such  a  moment  the  whole  world  was  her  own ;  life 
was  round  and  complete ;  what  mattered  it  for  garment  ? 
She  sprang  forth  into  her  privilege ;  the  summer  after 
noon  was  endless ;  it  would  last  till  night ;  what  can 
the  years  do  more  ? 

Into  the  beginning  of  this  long,  lovely  period  came 
to-day  a  surprise  of  good  fellowship.  As  they  passed 
down  from  the  orchard  behind  the  garden  into  the  grav 
eled  way,  Harry  Henslee  met  them,  bareheaded,  eager, 
his  straw  hat  in  his  hand,  fanning  his  hot  face.  He 
had  walked  from  Peaceport,  whither  he  had  come  from 
Topthorpe  by  the  railroad.  He  was  off  duty  early;  his 
Sunday  holiday  at  Stillwick  was  lengthened. 


38  SQUARE  PEGS. 

They  welcomed  him  in;  gave  him  cold  chicken  and 
bread  and  butter,  and  lemonade.  Then  the  fatigue  of 
the  last  hour  was  nowhere;  it  might  have  been  a  year 
ago. 

"Come,  Esther,  we'll  go  down  to  the  brook,"  he 
said.  "Round  through  the  orchard,  and  get  peaches. 
No,  auntie,  I  haven't  time  for  pie." 

Estabel  had  had  peaches,  but  was  right  willing  to  go, 
either  way;  it  pleased  her  that  Harry  wanted  her,  and 
that  he  would  not  wait  for  pie.  "I  know  where  the 
best  rareripes  are,"  she  said.  "And  down  in  the 
meadow  there  are  cardinal  flowers." 

So  the  pair  went  off,   after  deliciousness  and  glory. 

The  two  women,  left  to  their  quiet,  stole  each  a 
glance  at  the  other. 

One  was  wondering  if  the  other  "thought."  The 
other  was  questioning  if  the  one  "liked."  Each  cov 
ered  her  own  instinctive  querying  with  an  inward  ignor 
ing  and  hushing  up,  —  her  glance  with  gently  dropping 
eyelids. 

They  talked  about  patterns  for  a  new  sleeve,  and  a 
recipe  for  elderberry  wine. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

PREDICAMENT. 

THE  brook  ran  quietly  along  here,  through  the  level 
of  the  meadows,  which  it  drained  well,  leaving  them 
rich  for  their  grass  crops,  but  not  marshy.  It  broad 
ened  out  to  a  pond  in  a  deep  natural  basin  a  little  way 
on,  at  the  foot  of  the  slope  from  the  Henslee  orchards. 
A  few  rods  farther  still,  at  the  outlet  of  the  basin,  a 
slight  dam  had  been  constructed,  with  a  weir,  to  keep 
back  the  fish  and  stock  the  pond.  Around  the  margin, 
the  low  banks  held  in  their  curves  patches  of  green  pads 
and  sweet  white  lilies.  Farther  back,  on  each  side,  the 
first  blazing  torches  of  the  cardinals  were  lifted  up. 

Harry  and  Estabel  had  come  straight  down  to  the 
brook  from  the  orchard,  along  the  side  line  of  the  gar 
den.  Here  the  stream  was  narrow ;  farther  up  were 
the  stepping-stones  by  which  Estabel  and  her  aunt  had 
crossed  in  the  morning.  Opposite,  the  fringe  of  the 
woods  offered  shade. 

"We '11  go  over  presently, "  said  Harry,  "and  finish 
eating  up  our  peaches.  Then  we  can  go  down  to  the 
pond.  I  've  got  a  raft  there  now;  did  you  know  it?  " 

"No.      How  superb!  "  responded  Estabel. 

Harry  stooped  down  and  put  both  his  hands  in  the 
water,  letting  it  run  over  them  in. swift  cool  ripples. 

"That  's  to  baptize  away  the  touch  of  the  hides,"  he 
said,  as  he  lifted  them  out,  and  shook  the  bright  drops 
off.  "You  don't  know  what  it  is,  to  get  away  into 
this,  from  the  skins  and  the  casks  and  the  gunnybags,  and 
from  standing  on  the  hot  wharf,  checking  off  invoices." 


40  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"I  know  what  it  is  to  get  out  into  it  from  almost 
nothing,"  said  Estabel.  "I  don't  wonder  you  think 
of  being  baptized.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  just  born!  " 

Harry  sprang  across  the  narrow  bit  of  water.  "Can 
you  do  it,  if  I  give  you  a  hand  ?  "  he  asked,  turning 
round  and  stretching  out  the  offered  help. 

"I  can  do  it  without,"  said  Estabel  proudly;  and 
with  a  quick  jump  she  was  beside  him. 

"Very  well — -for  so  young  an  infant,"  he  declared 
gravely.  "But  you  've  lost  some  of  your  peaches." 

"I  haven't  as  many  pockets  as  you  have.  Of  course 
they  rolled.  But  there  are  enough  safe  yet,"  holding 
out  her  broad-brimmed  hat,  which  she  had  tied  up  by 
the  strings,  gypsy-fashion,  to  serve  as  fruit-basket. 

Her  hair  was  tossed  about  her  temples,  where  the 
new  little  locks  were  short,  and  the  wind  had  ruffled 
them  out  of  their  straightness ;  even  the  braid  behind 
was  rubbed  and  loosened  until  its  turns  had  expanded 
from  their  slender  primness,  and  had  a  soft  fluff  upon 
them.  The  pale  color  glinted  in  the  sunlight.  Her 
olive  gray  eyes  flashed  golden  sparkles  with  fun  and 
happiness.  Everybody  —  I  don't  care  who  —  has 
pretty  moments;  this  was  one  of  Estabel's. 

They  ate  their  peaches,  sitting  under  an  oak;  then 
they  went  down  the  meadow  path  along  the  brookside. 

Estabel  filled  her  hat  with  cardinals. 

"Wait  for  the  water  lilies;  they're  better  worth 
while ;  these  always  fade  so  soon, "  said  Harry ;  and 
then,  round  a  clump  of  water-birches,  they  came  sud 
denly  upon  a  coterie  of  the  dainty  things  close  in  beside 
the  bank,  leaning  their  sweet,  heads  this  way  and  that 
among  the  broad  leayes,  and  turning  up  golden  hearts 
full  toward  the  sun ;  or  floating,  sheathed  in  pink  and 
olive,  their  waiting  buds  upon  the  still  surface  of  the 
miniature  bay. 

"There  isn't  a  much  better  place  than  this;  I  '11  cut 
a  crotched  stick,  and  we  can  hook  them  in, "  said 


PREDICAMENT.  41 

Harry.  "And  presently  we  '11  get  round  on  the  raft. 
Hello!  it's  over  there  on  the  other  side!  Never 
mind;  you  stay  here;  and  don't  get  in.  I  '11  go  across 
and  fetch  it." 

He  ran  back  around  the  birches.  Estabel  stayed, 
and  hooked  the  lilies  by  their  long  stems;  presently 
she  had  her  hat  heaped  up  with  a  coil  of  them,  the  buds 
and  blossoms  peeping  out  and  dropping  over  the  brim. 
She  had  to  tie  the  strings  tightly  across,  to  hold  the 
treasure  in. 

Harry  appeared  in  a  few  minutes  on  the  opposite 
bank ;  he  seemed  to  find  some  difficulty  with  the  raft, 
which  was  partly  bedded  in  the  mud;  the  water  in  the 
pond  was  low.  He  looked  about  for  a  pole ;  Estabel 
understood  his  movements  perfectly;  just  out  of  his 
apparent  sight  and  reach,  she  thought  she  discerned, 
under  some  weeds  and  flags,  the  thing  he  wanted,  which 
had  been  used  as  a  rafting  pole. 

"  Down  there !  "  she  shouted,  pointing  eagerly ;  but 
he  had  turned  away,  and  was  running  up  the  hill,  mak 
ing  for  the  orchard  bars,  which  happened  to  be  con 
structed  of  long,  light  saplings. 

"What  fun !  "  cried  Estabel.      "I  must  go  and  help !  " 

Back  around  the  little  birch  copse  she  ran;  measured 
with  quick  eye  widths  and  distances,  and  found  the 
place  where  Harry  must  have  made  his  second  jump. 
It  was  a  considerably  broader  space  than  they  had 
leaped  before,  but  Estabel  was  not  daunted. 

A  flat  stone  lay  just  under  the  low  bank,  at  the  edge 
of  the  water.  "I  suppose  he  did  it  standing,  from 
that,"  she  said.  "I  '11  have  to  take  a  run  for  it." 

She  went  back  up  the  gentle  slope,  turned  at  the  dis 
tance  of  a  few  yards,  and  started.  She  made  a  spring 
step  to  the  flat  stone,  and  another  instant  bound  for 
ward  ;  but  the  impetus  was  broken,  —  she  fell  just 
short,  and  came  down,  scrambling  and  dragging,  upon 
the  slimy  edge.  Knees  and  feet  entrammeled  them- 


42  SQUARE  PEGS. 

selves  in  the  strained  skirts,  which  they  held  down  into 
the  mud.  Front  gathers  gave  way ;  a  hook  behind 
burst  off ;  the  loose  placket  fell  apart ;  with  a  backward 
struggle  that  sent  her  heel  through  the  hem,  she  got 
free,  and  picked  herself  up;  but  the  gown  was  dropping 
about  her  feet. 

"Bother  petticoats!"  she  objurgated,  gathering  the 
wreck  around  her;  "and  the  pin  's  lost!  "  There  was 
only  one  pin  in  the  world  for  her  that  morning,  and  it 
was  gone. 

She  had  to  come  out  from  the  sheltering  shrubbery, 
holding  her  unlucky  garment  together  with  a  vindictive 
clutch.  The  front  was  stained  and  plastered  with  brown 
brook  mud.  She  had  left  her  hat  with  the  lilies  on  the 
other  side.  Her  pretty  moment  was  in  the  past.  The 
present  was  a  very  ugly  one  indeed. 

She  stood  still  where  she  was.  Harry,  coming  down 
with  a  heavy  pole  across  his  shoulder,  threw  his  burden 
upon  the  grass,  and  hurried  toward  her. 

"I  'm  all  gone  to  pieces!  "  she  exclaimed,  with  ab 
surd  pathos.  '"  I  met  a  fool  in  the  forest,'  she  lapsed 
into  quotation,  " '  a  motley  fool ;  a  miserable  world !  ' 
'Motley's  the  only  wear,'  you  see. — I  jumped  the 
brook  again,  and  —  the  fool  was  near  drowned  in  it. 
I  felt  like  just  staying  there  and  '  weeping  in  the  need 
less  stream,'  but  that  wasn't  the  fool,  you  know,  — it 
was  the  stag.  Oh,  I  'm  all  mixed  up!  Don't  be  pro 
voked  with  me !  " 

"Nonsense!  What  in  the  Lord's  world  did  you  do 
it  for?"  he  demanded,  after  the  man's  fashion,  ever 
since  Adam,  when  a  woman  gets  herself,  and  him  by 
any  implication,  into  a  hobble.  The  ministering  of 
masculine  angelhood  is  so  apt  to  be,  in  reverse  order 
to  that  of  the  feminine,  most  constant  in  our  hours  of 
ease. 

This  time,  no  doubt,  there  was  reason  in  reproach. 

"You  needn't  swear!"    Estabel  retorted;    and  got 


PREDICAMENT.  43 

the  better  of  him  there ;  though  if  he  had  been  older, 
and  less  a  gentleman,  he  might  have  sworn  more  em 
phatically. 

"I  told  you  to  stay  where  you  were." 

"I  didn't." 

"And  not  to  get  in."  Here  the  lip  muscles  quivered, 
in  despite  of  the  sternness. 

"I  did." 

"So  I  perceive.  I  hope  you  are  pleased  with  the 
result." 

"I  'in  satisfied,  if  you  are;  and  I  guess  you  must  be, 
for  it 's  proved  you  were  in  the  right  of  it." 

They  looked  straight  in  each  other's  eyes,  and  both 
laughed  out. 

It  was  a  very  prettily  rounded  little  scrap ;  if  they 
had  been  ten  years  older  they  could  not  perhaps  have 
done  it  better. 

"Where's  your  hat?" 

"  Over  there,  —  where  the  rest  of  me  was  to  have 
been." 

"I '11  go  and  get  it." 

"Thank  you.  And  please,  then,  keep  on  up  the 
other  side  of  the  brook  with  it.  —  I  'm  sorry,  Harry, 
I  've  spoilt  your  afternoon." 

"Oh,  I  don't  care.  I  'in  only  thinking  what  the  two 
aunts  will  say." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

I    LIKE    HER. 

ESTABEL  had  plenty  of  time  to  think  of  that,  as  she 
plodded  along  the  meadow,  often  hidden  by  the  wild 
hush  growth,  and  always  keeping  meekly  in  the  rear  of 
Harry's  stride  upon  the  parallel  path. 

The  young  fellow  never  looked  around,  hut  held  a 
certain  wary  under-watchfulness  upon  her  progress, 
without  obviously  using  his  eyes.  A  word  or  two  of 
inquiry,  tossed  back  over  his  shoulder,  and  an  answer 
on  her  part,  reaching  his  keen  ear,  were  sufficient ;  for 
the  rest,  he  concerned  himself  more  manifestly  in  his 
care  of  the  hat  full  of  lilies. 

Just  before  they  reached  the  stepping-stones,  Estabel 
stopped,  seated  herself  on  a  dry  hummock,  and  called 
out:  — 

"Go  on,  Harry,  please,  the  front  way;  and  don't 
hurry;  I  shall  run  round  through  the  orchard,  into  the 
kitchen.  Lauretta  will  put  me  to  rights." 

"O.  K.  !  Your  head's  level,"  he  called  back,  in 
boy  vernacular;  and  sprung,  with  only  one  lighting  on 
the  middle  stone,  over  the  crossing  place. 

"/could  have  done  that!"  cried  Estabel  the  incorri 
gible  after  him ;  and  a  laughing  shout  returned :  — 

"You  don't  need  to  add  to  this  day's  glory!  " 

He  managed  to  give  her  twenty  minutes'  grace.  In 
two  more,  Miss  Charlock  entered  the  kitchen. 

Lauretta  had  basted  up  the  slitted  skirt,  —  her 
threaded  needle  being  always  handy  in  the  hanging 
cushion  over  the  dresser,  —  the  front  breadth  was  in 


I  LIKE  HER.  45 

the  tub,  under  her  deft  local  manipulation,  and  Estabel 
sat  in  the  corner  of  the  settle,  her  damp  shoes  drying 
before  the  fire.  An  iron  was  already  down  upon  the 
coals  to  heat. 

"Well!"  was  the  lady's  restrained  but  comprehen 
sive  salutation. 

"  I  got  into  the  mud,  jumping  across  the  brook, " 
Estabel  stated  concisely. 

"You  're  generally  in  the  mud." 

"It  's  a  muddy  world.  It  seems  to  be  the  chief  end 
of  living  to  keep  clear  of  it.  I  don't  make  out  very 
well.  But  there  's  only  one  thing  I  'm  really  ashamed 
about  this  time.  It  wouldn't  have  been  so  bad  if  I 
hadn't  pinned  up  the  placket-hole." 

"  Pinned  up  the  placket  ?  What  had  that  to  do  with 
it  ?  " 

"I  put  my  foot  through,  when  I  fell,  and  tore  the 
hem  out." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you  are  ashamed, "  said  Miss  Esther 
indignantly. 

The  makeshift  was  to  her,  as  Estabel  knew  it  would 
be,  the  worst  of  the  business.  And  now  the  worst  was 
out. 

"I  hope  you  are;  you  ought  to  be.  The  sight  you 
must  have  been!  " 

Miss  Henslee  stood  in  the  doorway,  just  behind. 
"Hush!  "  she  whispered  softly.  "Don't  you  see  she 
is?" 

For  the  color  was  up,  painfully,  in  Estabel 's  face, 
and  her  eyes  were  bright  with  proudly  restrained  drops, 
for  all  her  bravado,  which  kindly  wise  Miss  Henslee 
saw  straight  through,  to  the  fineness  of  her  full  confes 
sion. 

"Lauretta  will  make  it  all  right,  I'm  sure,"  she 
said.  "And  then  you  can  run  upstairs  and  tidy  your 
hair,  and  come  back  into  the  parlor." 

The  girl  jumped  up,  stocking-footed,  gownless,  hair 


46  SQUARE  PEGS. 

in  a  whirl,  as  she  was ;  a  funny  picture,  as  such  re 
garded,  but  with  a  heart  in  her  face,  as  she  came  over 
quickly  to  Miss  Henslee,  and  put  her  hand  eagerly  into 
that  held  out  to  meet  her.  "  I  am  ashamed, "  she  said ; 
"and  you  're  ever  so  good,  and  I  'm  not  just  a  romp, 
and  nothing  else !  " 

"  Chooty-choo !  "  said  Miss  Esther  Charlock. 

By  which  originally  devised  expletive  it  was  Miss 
Charlock's  custom  to  relieve  herself  of  extra  emotion 
of  any  kind  whatsoever. 

Estabel  took  a  different  tone  when  Harry  Henslee 
commended  her  transformation. 

"You  look  like  a  young  lady  again  now,"  he  said. 
If  he  had  not  held  her  young  ladyhood  in  question,  and 
thought  admonishment  deserved,  he  would  not  have  said 
that,  and  Estabel  knew  it. 

"I  'm  just  the  same,  whatever  I  look,"  she  answered 
bluntly.  "And  I  don't  see  the  real  inside  difference 
between  jumping  a  brook  to  show  you  can  be  spry  and 
spunky,  and  keeping  quiet  and  nice,  when  you  want  to 
jump,  to  show  you  can  be  proper.  It 's  all  alike;  it 's 
all  just  putting  on!  " 

Naturally,  Miss  Henslee  and  her  nephew  commented 
slightly,  afterward,  upon  their  young  guest  and  the  inci 
dent. 

"She  's  very  real,"  said  Miss  Henslee.  "And 
that  's  at  the  bottom  of  even  her  odd  pranks.  I  think 
she  has  a  fine  nature.  I  like  her." 

"I  like  her,  too,"  answered  Harry.  "She's  jolly 
and  honest.  But  she  ought  to  be  smoothed  down. 
She  's  rough  and  wild.  Other  girls  I  know  would  stare 
at  her.  She  would  never  do  in  Topthorpe." 

"She  is  going  to  Topthorpe  next  week, "  said  Aunt 
Lucy. 

"To  stay?" 


I  LIKE  HER.  47 

"To  stay,  and  to  go  to  school.  She  is  to  live  with 
her  Aunt  Clymer." 

Harry  whistled.  "Well,  won't  she  have  a  time  of 
it!  "  he  ejaculated. 

"See  that  she  has  a  good  time,  as  far  as  depends 
upon  you,  Harry." 

"Of  course.  A  fellow  isn't  going  to  he  a  sneak. 
All  the  same,  it  won't  depend  much  on  me.  Those 
Clymers  haven't  quite  climbed,  yet,  and  —  well,  I 
hope  she  won't  wish  herself  back  again!  " 

Harry  Henslee  was  just  at  the  point  of  life  and  cir 
cumstance  to  be  absorbent  of  manner  and  convention ; 
at  which  point,  and  into  which  circumstance,  Estabel 
Charlock  had  not  yet  arrived.  She  was  extremely 
likely,  if  they  came  in  contact,  to  rebuke  a  certain  sub 
servience  in  him  to  form  and  requirement,  by  her  own 
willfully  accentuated  independence. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FROM    STILLWICK    TO    MOUNT    STREET. 

ON  the  Wednesday,  Miss  Charlock  and  Estabel,  hav 
ing  arrived  in  the  Stillwick  stage,  and  transacted  the 
elder  lady's  business  in  the  business  quarter  of  the  city, 
walked  up  through  the  quieter  avenues  beyond  the  Old 
Park,  to  Mount  Street,  reaching  Mrs.  Clymer's  door 
at  eleven  o'clock,  a  day  before,  and  hours  earlier  in 
the  day,  than  they  had  been  expected.  Miss  Charlock 
had  fixed  on  Wednesday,  and  brought  all  so  to  bear, 
because  the  semi-weekly  wagon,  not  then  distinctly 
called  "express,"  but  only  "Babson's, "  which  did  ser 
vice  in  errands  and  cartage  between  the  country  village 
and  the  city,  came  in  also  on  that  day,  and  would  bring 
Estabel 's  trunk.  The  stage  had  started  at  a  quarter  to 
eight ;  had  come  in  at  good  pace  over  the  almost  level 
turnpike,  having  no  "blocks "  to  encounter,  no  turns 
and  twists  across  street  rails  to  make,  not  even,  as  it 
happened,  a  "drawbridge  up"  to  hinder  it;  and  the 
passengers,  themselves  not  delayed  by  thronged  side 
walks  and  corners,  or  rushes  at  bargain  counters,  had 
a  fair  forenoon  for  whatever  purposes  had  brought  them. 

So  our  friends  stood,  in  the  plain  array  Miss  Charlock 
deemed  fitting  for  the  stage,  and  general  "traveling," 

—  she  carrying  in  her  hand  a  small  old  leather  portman 
teau,  and  Estabel  laden  with  sundry  dry-goods  parcels, 

—  under   the   marble   ceiled   and  pillared  porch  which 
arched  the  entrance  of  84  Mount  Street. 

The  front  door  was  opened  to  their  ring  by  a  man 
servant  in  a  waiter's  linen  jacket.  Black  suits  and 


FROM  STILLWICK  TO  MOUNT  STREET.     49 

liveries  were  not  yet  an  applied  civilization.  Notwith 
standing  the  jacket,  the  personage  had  an  imposing 
air. 

Miss  Charlock  was  stepping  in ;  he  put  his  uncompro 
mising  figure  between  her  and  the  inner  door. 

''Who  did  you  wish  to  see,  ma'am?  "  Only  the  first 
and  last  words  betrayed  the  underling.  The  rest,  and 
the  manner  of  it,  represented  the  entire  dignity  of  the 
establishment. 

"Mrs.  Clymer,  of  course.      Isn't  she  at  home?  " 

"I  don't  know,  ma'am."  And  he  made  no  further 
immediate  demonstration.  He  was  deliberately  taking 
estimate. 

Miss  Charlock's  righteous  ire  was  roused.  She  was 
therefore,  on  her  part,  extremely  composed  and  very 
deliberate. 

"I  suppose  it  is  your  business  to  know  or  to  find 
out.  Had  n't  you  better  go  and  see?"  She  spoke  in 
a  restrained  monotone,  with  rising  inflections.  She 
couldn't  have  been  more  English,  if  she  had  known 
anything  about  being  English,  and  had  tried. 

The  man  reached  a  little  silver  plate  from  a  table  in 
the  hall  behind  him,  and  held  it  out  to  her. 

Now  Miss  Charlock  was  not  absolutely  unsophisti 
cated.  She  knew  what  she  had  a  mind  to  know.  But 
there  was  in  her  something  of  the  same  lineal  humor  of 
irresponsibility  and  sharpness  which  in  Estabel  had  not 
yet  been  subdued  to  all  ordinary  decorums.  For  "Char 
lock  "  is  wild  mustard. 

Aunt  Esther  gravely  took  the  plate.  "Thank  you; 
what  is  it  for  ?  "  said  she. 

"Your  card,  if  you  please,"  answered  the  man,  not 
quite  apprehending  whether  to  be  amused  or  rebuked  or 
further  insolent. 

"I  don't  carry  cards.  I  don't  advertise,"  was  the 
astonishing  reply. 

Estabel  was  laughing  undisguisedly.     This  was  great 


50  SQUARE  PEGS. 

fun.  Between  the  two,  the  servant  could  find  no  clue 
for  his  appropriate  behavior. 

"It 's  your  name  I  want,  ma'am,"  he  said,  with  non 
committal  doggedness. 

"I  don't  see  what  it  can  be  to  you.  I  'm  expected. 
Chooty-choo !  "  said  Miss  Charlock. 

"Thank  you,  ma'am.     I  couldn't  go  up  without  it." 

And  he  departed  through  the  house  to  the  region  of 
back  stairs,  leaving  the  visitors  in  the  vestibule. 

Either  at  puzzled  first  hearing  or  on  the  way,  he 
confounded  the  difficult  consonants. 

"Somebody  to  see  you,  ma'am,  below  —  Miss  Judy 
Kew.  She  says  she  is  expected.  Some  kind  of  a  shop 
keeper,  I  think,  ma'am,"  he  announced  to  Mrs.  Clymer. 

"  Miss  Judy  Kew !  Expected  ?  Why  —  oh  —  is  there 
a  young  lady  with  her  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am  —  at  least  —  well,  ma'am,  I  really 
couldn't  make  them  out  at  all." 

"The  persons  I  expected  were  my  niece,  and  —  the 
relative  who  has  had  charge  of  her  in  Stillwick  since  I 
went  away." 

Mrs.  Clymer  explained  matters  with  a  quite  beautiful 
self-possession,  which  put  the  whole  subject  at  once  be 
yond  inferior  surmise  or  criticism.  Mrs.  Clymer  had 
a  really  fine  way  with  her,  when  she  could  hold  herself 
positively.  She  carried  over  a  tone  she  had  noted  and 
admired,  in  books  or  her  higher  practical  contacts,  to 
lesser  practice  with  great  success  ;  she  was  a  good  under 
study;  on  the  actual  stage  in  grand  performance,  she 
could  not  always  maintain  her  bearing  and  composure ; 
she  was  too  apt  to  relapse,  instinctively,  into  receptivity 
and  observation. 

She  impressed  her  servant.  He  said,  "Certainly, 
ma'am;  excuse  me;  the  lady  didn't  quite  —  eluci 
date."  And  he  retired  from  her  presence,  to  retrieve, 
as  far  as  possible,  his  blunder,  devoutly  hoping  that 
the  entire  preliminary  interview  might  not  transpire. 


FROM  STILLWICK  TO  MOUNT  STREET.      51 

Downstairs,  a  little  later,  he  gave  his  own  version,  to 
the  amusement  of  the  maids. 

"Of  course,  the  best  of  folks  may  have  their  country 
connections,"  he  admitted  loftily,  in  conclusion.  "But 
you  can't  tell  just  what  to  do  with  'em,  when  they  come 
upon  you  sudden,  and  don't  show  their  references." 

Meanwhile,  in  the  hall,  Estabel  had  her  fun  out. 
She  sat  down  flat  upon  the  floor,  the  instant  the  august 
functionary  was  out  of  sight,  and  rocked  herself  back 
and  forth  with  glee.  "Oh,  I  should  just  like  to  roll!  " 
she  cried. 

"Get  up!  "  commanded  Miss  Charlock  indignantly; 
and  the  girl  obeyed  with  the  agility  of  an  acrobat. 
For  keeping  still,  that  was  another  matter.  She  skipped 
along,  on  tiptoe,  over  the  thick,  soundless  carpet,  peer 
ing  through  the  open  doorways  into  the  sumptuous 
rooms.  In  the  next  three  or  four  minutes  she  had  done 
more  darting  and  flitting,  and  to  more  purpose,  than  a 
dragon  fly  or  a  bumblebee  would  have  done,  imprisoned 
in  her  place. 

"Why  don't  you  come  in  and  sit  down,  Aunt  Es 
ther?  "  she  asked,  pausing  at  last  ori  the  threshold  of 
the  drawing-room,  looking  inward.  Aunt  Esther  had 
not  dar,ed  to  speak  while  she  was  farther  off,  for  fear  of 
making  matters  worse. 

It  was  at  this  instant  that  the  discomfited  official  in 
the  white  jacket,  approaching  from  the  distant  vista  of 
the  background,  perceived,  as  he  supposed,  that  his  tardy 
civilities  would  be  unnecessary,  and  willingly  retreated. 

But  Miss  Charlock  remained  unnoticed  in  the  vesti 
bule,  motionless  and  resolute,  like  an  elderly  feminine 
Casablanca,  until  legitimately  relieved. 

"Come  back  here!  "  she  said,  in  a  stern,  strong  whis 
per,  to  her  errant  niece. 

Estabel  came  back,  and  repeated  her  question. 

"Because  I  know  how  to  stay  put  —  when  it  suits 
me.  And  don't  you  offer  to  step  inside  again,  either." 


52  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Undaunted,  in  full  enjoyment  of  the  situation,  Es- 
tabel  started  fresh  inquiry. 

"Aunt  Esther,  do  you  suppose  that  can  be  the  shop 
out  there  ?  "  she  demanded,  nodding  backward  to  the 
extreme  bound  of  her  rapid  explorations,  where  some 
corner  gleams  of  the  gorgeous  glass  and  porcelain  de 
partment  were  visible. 

"You'd  better  ask  your  other  aunt,"  Miss  Charlock 
answered  grimly,  but  with  a  curl  at  the  corners  of  her 
lips  like  a  baby's  when  its  chin  is  tickled. 

And  at  that  moment  the  other  aunt  appeared  at  the 
head  of  the  long  staircase,  and  came  down. 

"Out  here!"  she  exclaimed.  "Why  aren't  you  in 
the  drawing-room  ?  " 

"The  gentleman  didn't  invite  us  any  further,"  re 
turned  Miss  Charlock. 

Mrs.  Clymer  snapped  down  the  latch  of  a  wall  bell 
vigorously.  The  white  jacket  reappeared. 

"Take  these  things  to  the  front  upper  room,"  she 
said  severely.  "And  have  lunch  upon  the  table  at 
twelve." 

Anything  like  the  bow,  which  included  the  three  and 
was  accompanied  by  a  quick  glance  of  deprecation  to 
the  newcomers,  had  certainly  never  been  seen  in  Still- 
wick. 

"Archibald  didn't  understand,"  Mrs.  Clymer  re 
marked  slightly. 

"  He  appeared  to  think  he  did, "  returned  Miss  Char 
lock.  "But  it  wasn't  of  any  consequence.  I  suppose 
you  have  all  sorts  of  folks  coming  to  your  door  in  the 
city."  The  quiet  indifference  with  which  she  accounted 
of  herself  as  among  the  indefinite  all  sorts  of  folks  was 
sublime. 

Mrs.  Clymer  dropped  it  there,  accepting  the  "no 
consequence  "  with  a  smile ;  making  haste  to  inquire  at 
what  time  they  had  left  Stillwick,  and  how  early  Miss 
Charlock  would  be  obliged  to  leave  Topthorpe  for  her 


FROM   STILLWICK   TO   MOUNT  STREET.       53 

return.       "Our  dinner  isn't  till  four,"   she  explained. 
The  Clymers  were  ahead  in  this  inarch  of  custom  also. 

"That's  most  my  tea  time,  generally,"  said  Aunt 
Esther.  "But  the  stage  don't  start  till  half-past  three. 
—  You  've  got  a  pretty  complete  house  here,  sister-in- 
law-in-law." 

She  would  not,  for  the  value  of  all  Mount  Street, 
have  been  guilty  of  the  mistake  of  seeming  purposely 
not  to  notice,  any  more  than  she  would  have  noticed 
too  effusively. 

"I  must  take  you  round  presently,"  said  Mrs.  Cly- 
mer,  with  graciousness.  "But  don't  call  me  by  that 
long  name  before  anybody,  please, "  she  added,  laughing. 
"  Cousm-mg  is  old-fashioned,  they  say.  People  don't 
call  each  other  by  relationships ;  but  that  would  need  a 
whole  family  Bible  to  unriddle  every  time !  " 

"Oh,  I  didn't  know.  I'll  bear  it  in  mind.  It 
would  be  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  of  course,  to  have  to 
settle  everything  by  the  Bible, "  returned  Miss  Char 
lock  meekly.  There  being  no  immediate  remark  upon 
that,  she  went  on:  "I  guess  likely  Estabel  will  have 
considerable  to  find  out,  before  she  gets  the  knack  of 
things,  even  if  she  reads  her  Bible  every  day,  which  I 
hope  she  will.  She  '11  make  mistakes,  and  you  '11  have 
to  make  allowances.  She  thought  just  now  your  china 
closet  was  Mr.  Clymer's  shop.  She  's  always  been  used 
to  a  shop  opening  out  of  the  front  entry,  you  know." 

It  was  a  remote  comfort  to  Mrs.  Clymer  that  the 
stage  would  start  at  half -past  three.  What  might  hap 
pen  between  now  and  then  she  dared  not  contemplate. 
She  need  not  have  been  worried.  Esther  Charlock  un 
derstood  the  last  refinement  of  aggravation.  The  thing 
threatened  is  a  great  deal  worse  than  even  the  thing 
done.  If  she  had  not  known  what  to  refrain  from  when 
the  time  came,  she  would  not  have  known  how  to  terrify. 

Mrs.  Clymer  continued  bland  and  hospitable,  serene 
in  her  own  superiority,  even  if  apprehensive  of  the  in- 


54  SQUARE  PEGS. 

aptitudes  of  others.  She  took  her  guests  to  her  own 
room  to  lay  aside  their  bonnets,  and  then  around  from 
that  to  others,  and  downstairs  again,  through  all  the 
extended  show  that  Estahel  had  only  peeped  at. 

The  young  girl  accompanied  and  followed  silently, 
taking  seriously  her  new  bearings,  grasping  readily 
enough  her  new  situation.  It  did  not  seem,  after  all, 
unfamiliar  to  her.  Nothing  is  really  unfamiliar  to 
quick  young  eyes  or  impressible  young  fancy.  In  five 
minutes  she  felt  already  "used  to  things."  Her  large 
imagination  had  not  been  given  her  for  nothing.  It 
fitted  itself  to  whatever  of  grandeur  or  luxury  might  be 
presented.  It  had  made  grandeur  and  luxury  out  of 
utmost  simplicity.  Now  it  would  make  matter  of 
course,  of  the  unlimited  and  splendid.  It  is  well  that 
we  can  all  go  forward  of  ourselves  in  such  wise.  Else 
how  can  we  pass  at  last  from  earth  to  heaven  without 
being  confounded  ? 

Estabel  was  as  ready  made  as  her  aunt's  house  and 
furnishings.  But  the  ready  made,  she  was  to  learn,  is 
not  the  really  made  at  all. 

She  delighted  in  those  externals  which  so  lavishly 
seemed  to  express  about  her  the  richness  of  life ;  it  was 
with  a  new  delight,  different  from  her  pleasure  in  the 
field  and  wood,  different  from  the  sedate  satisfactions  of 
the  old  Henslee  manor,  with  its  sober  plenty,  its  mea 
sured,  proper  indulgence.  This  was  an  Arabian  Night's 
dream,  in  which  her  picture-nature  could  revel ;  the 
instinctive  desire  in  her  was  met,  her  delicious  ideal 
represented  in  substance ;  she  could  see  and  touch  and 
use  the  signs  of  it ;  she  could  be  here  as  a  princess  in  a 
palace. 

She  longed  to  be  all  alone,  to  take  possession ;  to 
walk  up  and  down  these  rooms,  in  and  out  their  stately 
communications,  just  as  she  had  walked  up  and  down 
among  the  bean  vines  and  the  corn,  only  with  the  ima 
gination  in  her  set  free  from  the  transforming  of  place 


FROM   STILLWICK   TO   MOUNT   STREET.       55 

and  object,  to  the  building  up  in  the  actual  surrounding 
wonderful  stories  of  a  new,  real  life,  intense  within  her 
now,  to  be  realized  in  further  circumstance  and  detail, 
she  never  doubted,  as  the  time  went  on. 

Aunt  Vera  thought  she  was  impressed  and  shy  be 
cause  she  did  not  speak.  This  flattered  her;  but  if  she 
had  looked  deep  into  those  glowing  eyes,  if  she  had 
searched  the  subtle  underplay  of  fine  muscles  about  them, 
and  the  secret  flutter  of  an  unloosened  smile  about  the 
closed  but  gently  curving  lips,  she  might  have  guessed 
something  which  she  could  not  fully  know,  because  of 
the  want  of  real  poetry  or  fancy  in  her  own  nature.  Mrs. 
Clymer  was  "practical,"  as  she  often  said  of  herself;  she 
went  as  far  as  literal  facts  went,  or  she  could  make  them 
go  in  the  direction  of  her  desires,  —  no  farther. 

"  She  looks  bright,  and  she  will  get  accustomed, " 
thought  Aunt  Vera.  "I  am  glad  she  does  not  stare 
and  exclaim." 

Aunt  Esther  thought  that  perhaps  the  child  was  sober 
because  she  was  feeling  the  good-by  to  herself  and  the 
old  Stillwick  life. 

There  is  a  world  —  a  moving,  urging,  palpitating 
world  —  in  every  human  being  which  the  nearest  never 
can  quite  penetrate.  The  Stillwick  life  was  over,  it 
appeared,  truly ;  and  here  was  another,  altogether 
strange  and  different,  not  yet  opened.  In  this  small 
space  of  time  between  the  two,  Estabel  was  hurrying 
through  the  panoramic  scenes  of  a  whole  existence,  such 
as  never  had  been,  and  never  would  exactly  be.  And 
the  two  aunts  —  the  dece  ex  machind  of  the  before  and 
after  —  sat  close  beside  her  and  did  not  know. 

At  three  o'clock  Miss  Charlock  went.  Estabel  accom 
panied  her  to  the  door,  and  kissed  her  tenderly,  cling 
ing  to  her  a  little,  with  a  hold  that  lay  warm  against 
Aunt  Esther's  heart  long  after.  Then  Mrs.  Clymer 
took  the  girl  into  her  own  possession  and  led  her  away 
upstairs  to  the  room  that  was  to  be  hers.  It  was  a 


56  SQUARE  PEGS. 

large  chamber,  looking  out,  happily,  not  on  confronting 
brick  walls,  but  across  an  open  space  between  Mount 
Street  and  the  next  parallel.  In  this  space  were  scat 
tered  trees,  over  roughly  broken  ground  partly  green 
with  grass  and  weeds.  It  was  such  a  piece  of  land  as 
Topthorpians  still  living  can  well  remember,  —  a  rem 
nant  of  old  garden  or  still  more  ancient  pasture,  marked 
out  for  eligible  building  sites,  but  not  yet  so  appropri 
ated.  In  the  middle,  a  considerable  round  had  been 
railed  in,  sodded  evenly,  and  a  graveled  path  made 
through,  with  iron  posts  limiting  to  foot  passage  an 
entrance  at  either  end,  at  the  top  of  two  stone  steps. 
About  the  little  park  ran  a  street  way,  passable,  but 
not  macadamized  to  its  final  smoothness.  The  rest  was 
rough  land,  as  beforesaid;  there  was  room  for  perhaps 
six  houses  of  generous  proportions  on  each  side.  It 
was  intended  only  for  fine  mansions,  as  may  by  and  by 
appear  collaterally  to  our  story. 

Exactly  opposite  to  Estabel's  window,  over  the  nearer 
entrance  to  the  Round,  two  elms  arched  the  steps  with 
graceful  boughs.  They  made  her  think  of  the  gateway 
at  home.  As  yet,  in  her  heart,  Stilhvick  was  home; 
Topthorpe  was  an  incident,  a  peradventure. 

"Now  you  may  dress  for  dinner,"  said  Aunt  Vera. 
"  Put  on  something  nice ;  the  best  you  have,  probably ; 
we  '11  get  more  for  you  soon.  Your  trunk  is  below;  I 
will  send  Archibald  up  with  it  in  a  few  minutes.  You 
had  better  let  him  put  it  here,  beside  the  chimney ;  and 
here  is  a  quarter  you  can  hand  him." 

She  laid  a  twenty-five-cent  piece  down  upon  a  little 
table. 

Estabel  looked  puzzled  for  an  instant ;  then  she  un 
derstood.  She  had  seen  Aunt  Vera  do  this  with  porters 
and  servants  when  she  had  stayed  with  her  at  hotels. 
But  this  was  not  a  hotel;  it  was  Aunt  Vera's  own 
house  ;  why  did  she  not  do  it  herself,  if  it  need  be  done  ? 
She  asked  her  why. 


FROM   STILLWICK  TO   MOUNT  STREET.       57 

"I  think  you  had  better.  There  's  no  occasion  for 
me.  It  will  show  that  you  —  know  what  's  proper." 

She  meant  that  Estabel,  notwithstanding  that  peculiar 
first  encounter,  should  take  her  position  with  the  ser 
vants.  To  Aunt  Vera's  understanding  of  things,  posi 
tion  was  always  to  be  taken  with  money,  from  a  quar 
ter's  worth  upward. 

Estabel  took  up  the  coin,  and  put  it  back  into  her 
aunt's  hand. 

"I  have  some  money,"  she  said,  "and  I  'd  rather — • 
really  do  it,  myself." 

Aunt  Vera  was  not  offended,  but  rather  pleased. 
Here  was  the  instinct  of  a  lady,  which  something  in 
her,  apart  from  money,  perceived,  respected. 

"That  's  very  nice  of  you,  my  dear,"  she  said  kindly. 
"Only  I  mean  to  keep  you  in  small  pocket  money,  so 
we  might  as  well  begin.  You  may  not  have  exactly  the 
right  bit.  If  you  want  help  with  your  hair  or  any 
thing,  ring  the  bell,  and  Sarah  will  come."  With 
that,  she  laid  the  quarter  down  again,  and  went  away. 

Estabel  could  not  begin  to  dress  till  Archibald  and 
the  trunk  had  come,  and  the  former  gone.  She  took  out 
her  little  knitted  purse,  and  emptied  some  silver  into 
her  hand.  There  were  a  few  dimes,  half  dimes,  a  half 
dollar,  and  a  whole  one.  She  selected  the  half  dollar. 
"I'll  give  him  that,"  she  said  to  herself,  "so  that  it 
shall  be  as  much  from  me  as  her.  Then  for  a  while 
I  '11  let  him  bring  me  things  for  nothing.  I  guess  he  '11 
understand."  Which  was  again  the  instinct  of  the  in 
experienced. 

She  slid  her  aunt's  contribution  out  of  sight  behind 
a  book,  went  over  to  a  window  and  sat  down,  looking 
out  again  at  the  rough  square,  and  the  two  elms  over 
the  stone  steps. 

"  I  shall  make  believe  it  is  the  country, "  she  medi 
tated.  "It  would  be  a  nice  place  to  go  and  sit  with 
a  book." 


58  SQUARE  PEGS. 

She  had  already  turned  her  make-beliefs  the  other 
end  round. 

Archibald  came  with  the  trunk  —  not  a  Saratoga  — 
upon  his  shoulder. 

"Set  it  here,  please,  Archibald.  Thank  you  very 
much."  And  the  half  dollar,  neither  exactly  knew 
how,  which  was  precisely  as  it  ought  to  have  been,  was 
slipped  into  his  hand. 

"Thank  you,  miss,  I  'm  sure.  I  hope  you  '11  excuse 
—  my  blundering  at  the  door. " 

Estabel  laughed.  "Oh,  you  were  both  very  droll,  — 
my  aunt  and  you.  I  don't  wonder  you  didn't  either 
of  you  understand.  Miss  Charlock  likes  to  mystify 
people  sometimes.  You  thought  her  name  was  — 
Chooty-choo !  Oh,  what  fun !  "  And  her  laugh  rang 
full  out,  so  that  the  stately  Archibald  ventured  upon  a 
smile. 

"There  's  no  mistake  about  you,  miss.  And  if 
there  's  anything  I  can  do  for  you  of  any  sort,  you  've 
only  just  to  say  it." 

He  bowed  to  her  from  the  doorway  with  his  hand 
lifted  to  his  forehead,  and  was  gone.  Estabel  felt  more 
like  a  princess  in  a  play  than  ever.  "I  dreamt  —  that 
I  —  dwe-elt  in  —  ma-arble  halls, "  —  she  sang  as  she 
unhooked  her  gray  debeige  dress. 

She  had  seen  and  listened  to  the  "Bohemian  Girl  " 
three  winters  ago,  when  she  had  been  with  Aunt  Vera 
at  the  Trepeake  House,  and  the  opera  company  was  at 
the  theatre  right  opposite.  "Oh,  what  fun, — to  be 
the  Bohemian  Girl !  "  she  exclaimed,  letting  down  her 
ash-blond  hair  out  of  its  tight  braid. 

She  laid  out  the  fawn-colored  chally,  with  its  green 
and  crimson  sprays.  She  chose  out  of  a  little  box  of 
ribbons  which  Aunt  Esther  had  supplied  to  her  from  the 
shop,  —  what  joy  to  have,  for  once,  all  fresh  ones !  — 
a  fine  length  of  crimson  satin ;  it  would  go  so  well  with 
the  little  red  flowers  upon  the  dress.  And  indeed  it 


FROM   STILLWICK   TO   MOUNT  STREET.       59 

contrasted  well  also  with  the  soft,  pale  color  of  her  hair. 
She  drew  this  away  regretfully  from  her  face,  —  a  full 
light  mass  of  shining  strands  crisped  by  the  hraiding, 
and  falling  like  a  shower  of  spun  glass  threads  about 
her  throat  and  shoulders.  "If  it  only  were  the  fashion 
to  wear  it  hanging!  "  she  said.  But  that  fashion  had 
not  come  round  yet,  and  she  gathered  it  into  its  accus 
tomed  relentless  tidiness. 

She  had  to  ring  for  Sarah  to  fasten  her  dress  behind. 

"  Will  you  please  ?  "  she  said  gently,  for  she  was  un 
used  to  ordering;  and  so  unuse  met  unwittingly  the  ex 
treme  of  highest  habit.  "She  's  a  natural  lady,  any 
how,  "  said  handmaiden  Sarah  to  herself. 

"Is  my  hair  nice  behind,  Sarah?  " 

"Very  nice  indeed,  miss;  only  —  if  you  would  let 
me  —  there !  "  And  she  had  loosened  while  speaking 
the  locks  that  had  been  brushed  back  stiffly  from  the 
temples,  and  let  them  drop  a  little  across  the  ear-tips. 
"That  looks  more  easy,"  she  remarked.  And  then 
she  pulled  the  loopings  of  the  braid  each  way,  until  it 
was  shortened  and  broadened  to  some  pliancy  and  full 
ness.  "It  isn't  quite  so  much  like  a  stick  of  candy," 
Sarah  said. 

"You've  got  pretty  hair,"  she  added,  to  soften  the 
satire  of  comparison. 

"Why,  Sarah!  I  don't  think  so  at  all!  "  cried  Es- 
tabel  in  the  most  honest  surprise.  "It's  only  pretty 
when  it  's  let  out,  and  all  anyhow." 

"That 's  the  way  some  folks  is  pretty.  It  don't  do 
to  tie  up  hair  —  or  people  —  too  tight,  and  all  alike. 
If  you  can  be  kind  of  car'less,  — an'  not  too  much,  — 
that 's  the  idear  ain't  it?  " 

"It  's  a  very  nice  idea,  I  think."  Estabel  carefully 
placed  between  her  vowels  the  comma  for  which  Sarah 
had  substituted  the  lingual  consonant.  Perhaps  the 
latter  noticed  this,  and  it  suggested  what  came  next. 

"Would  you  mind,  Miss  Estabel,  spelling  my  name 
S-a-r-a?  " 


60  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"  Why,  what  need  shall  I  have  to  spell  it  at  all  ?  " 

"Oh,  only  in  your  mind.  It  might  sound  the  same, 
but  'twould  be  a  comfort  to  know  you  knew,  and  took 
that  view  of  it.  I  can't  ever  bear  names  that  have 
aitches  put  on  at  the  ends ;  Sara/i,  Hanna/i,  RebekaA, 
SusannaA."  She  made  the  "a"  very  distinctly,  "as 
in  father. " 

"Now  I  think  of  it,"  said  Estabel,  "they  aren't 
spoken  alike.  There  's  a  picture  at  Henslee  Place  of 
a  Madam  Sara ;  and  they  always  say  it  short,  —  both 
'  a's  '  just  alike, — 'Sarra;  '  that's  the  sound  of  it. 
Shall  I  call  you  so  ?  " 

"I  guess  that  wouldn't  fit  on,  now,"  she  answered; 
"only,  if  you  like,  just  between  ourselves.  I  suppose 
other  folks  must  go  on  pronouncing  it  wrong.  But 
that's  only  because  they  don't  know,  and  we  do,"  she 
added,  with  a  return  of  cheerfulness.  "Do  you  suppose 
they  called  Lady  Sara  Roos,  in  '  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw, ' 
'  Sarra '  ?  She  was  a  horrid  woman ;  behaved  like 
sixty ;  but  it  was  a  lovely,  proud-sounding,  innocent 
way  her  name  was  spelt,  if  she  'd  only  conducted  herself 
accordingly." 

Estabel  found  a  comical  sympathy  in  Sarah's  fancies. 
She  would  like  to  please  her  if  she  could. 

"I  don't  see  why  I  could  n't  set  the  fashion  of  saying 
it  short,"  she  responded.  And  then,  bethinking  herself 
of  Genesis,  "There's  another  way,  besides,"  she  said. 
"Abraham's  wife  was  '  Sarai, '  you  know;  S-a-r-a-i." 

"And  a  pretty  thing  she  was,  too,  with  her  tricks 
and  her  tantrums ;  piling  Hagar  and  the  boy  out  into 
the  old  sandy  desert!  I  don't  want  any  of  her.  I 
don't  think  overmuch  of  Abraham,  neither.  He  might 
have  been  respectable,  for  the  times,  but  he  lied,  over 
and  over  again ;  and  he  wanted  to  kill  his  son.  I  like 
Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  better." 

"So  did  Lady  Sara  Roos." 

"Well,  there  might  be  good  Sarras;  but  Say-ray  is 
dreadful." 


FROM   STILLWICK  TO   MOUNT   STREET.       61 

"Sara!  Isn't  it  almost  dinner  time?  Mustn't  I  go 
down  ?  "  She  treated  the  syllables  gently ;  it  was  just 
a  light  touch  of  changed  accentuation.  Sarah  was  de 
lighted. 

"Yes,  miss.  And  good  luck  go  with  you.  You 
look  real  sweet." 

Estabel  had  at  least  won  to  herself  two  loyal  retain 
ers,  in  this  her  first  day  in  marble  halls. 


CHAPTER  X. 

LETTERS. 

MBS.    CLYMEB    TO    MISS    CHAKLOCK. 

DEAR  ESTHER,  —  I  promised,  I  believe,  when  we 
agreed  that  there  had  better  be  no  visiting  for  a  while, 
to  write  you  word  now  and  then  in  regard  to  Estabel. 
Of  course,  until  she  begins  to  go  to  school,  and  make 
acquaintance,  and  go  about  a  little  more,  there  is  not 
much  to  say.  But  at  least  I  have  nothing  of  great 
consequence  to  complain  of,  there  being  no  fences  here 
to  climb,  and  no  brooks  to  jump  into,  unless  she  tried 
the  spiked  iron  of  the  mall,  or  the  River  Shawnie, 
which  at  the  foot  of  our  street  is  pretty  near  a  mile 
across.  She  has  a  genius  for  invention,  however,  and 
there  is  never  any  knowing  what  may  come  of  it.  It 
seems  a  hard  thing  for  her  to  understand  that  the  city 
is  anything  but,  as  she  says,  "the  country  covered  up." 
Mr.  Clymer  was  greatly  amused  at  her  definition,  and 
Ulick  North,  who  was  here  to  tea,  said  it  pretty  much 
summed  up  the  whole  relation  between  civilization  and 
barbarism.  He  says  a  good  many  clever  things,  but  I 
don't  know  always  exactly  what  he  means. 

Well,  Estabel  managed,  the  very  first  morning  she 
was  here,  to  find  a  place  where  she  thought,  I  suppose, 
the  country  cropped  out.  Where  do  you  guess  she  took 
herself,  with  a  book  and  her  garden  hat,  but  to  the  gate 
of  the  Round,  and  sat  down,  as  calm  as  you  please,  on 
the  stone  steps  under  the  elms,  just  as  if  she  were  in 
your  front  yard  in  Stillwick!  I  saw  her  through  the 


LETTERS.  63 

blinds,  and  all  our  side  of  Mount  Street  might  have 
done  the  same.  Just  think  of  it!  And  the  gentlemen 
beginning  to  come  out  of  their  front  doors  to  go  down 
town!  I  was  at  my  wits'  ends;  for  it  wouldn't  do  to 
call  to  her,  and  I  did  n't  want  to  send,  and  fetch  her 
straight  across,  to  show  everybody  where  the  goose  had 
come  from.  But  Sarah  Sullivant  saw  her,  too,  and  she 
saved  the  situation  this  time.  She  's  no  fool.  She 
went  out  the  back  gate,  and  down  Filbert  Street  into 
Beech,  and  so  around  up  Mount,  and  took  her  back  the 
same  way.  For  a  mercy,  the  clotheslines  were  out, 
and  the  sheets  hung,  so  the  retreat  was  under  cover. 

I  rang  for  Sarah,  and  gave  her  a  dollar.  She  said 
she  didn't  want  it,  but  I  told  her  I  would  rather  have 
given  fifty  than  to  have  had  it  noticed.  "What  will 
the  child  do  next?"  I  said.  "Something  bright  an' 
innersunt,  I  guess,  whatever  it  is,"  said  Sarah.  "She  's 
as  simple-minded  as  the  Babes  in  the  Wood,  —  or  as 
Lady  Godyvy,  if  it  's  proper  to  mention  her.  There  'd 
be  no  need  to  be  ashamed  if  folks  was  only  enough  like 
her  to  understand."  I  can  see  that  Sarah  is  all  ready 
to  side  —  and  maybe  hide  —  for  her.  I  told  her  to 
watch  out,  and  keep  her  from  doing  anything  wild  and 
dreadful,  if  she  could.  She  said,  yes ;  but  she  guessed 
Miss  Estybel  was  smart  enough  to  go  alone,  and  find 
her  way,  too,  without  much  hindering,  nor  yet  showing. 
She  'd  got  the  lady  in  her,  and  that  was  the  main  thing. 
So  it  is,  but  there  are  manners  and  customs,  and  the 
girl  is  awfully  independent. 

When  I  told  her  what  a  queer  thing  she  had  done: 
she  just  opened  her  eyes  at  me.  "Why,  what  ar£ 
things  for,  then,  if  they  aren't  to  take  comfort  in?" 
she  wanted  to  know.  I  said  that  people  in  the  city  had 
to  take  comfort  in  their  houses;  that  trees  and  grass 
were  to  look  at,  out  of  window,  or  walking  along ;  little 
children,  with  nurses  to  take  care  of  them,  might  play 
in  the  squares ;  but  to  go  and  sit  there,  —  a  great, 


64  SQUARE  PEGS. 

grown  girl,  with  a  book! —  "Well,"  says  she,  with  a 
long,  hard  breath,  as  if  it  was  the  last  she  expected  to 
draw,  "I  've  heard  of  being  as  big  as  all  outdoors;  but 
it  seems  when  you  're  fifteen  years  old,  and  in  the  city, 
you  're  bigger.  I  think  it  's  terrible  to  outgrow  the 
whole  world,  and  have  to  be  crowded  into  a  crack  be 
tween  brick  walls.  I  know  now  how  that  genie  felt  in 
the  bottle.  I  don't  wonder  he  stretched  sky-high  when 
he  was  let  out !  " 

She    was  n't    the   least    bit    impertinent   nor   out   of 
humor;    she  simply  couldn't  see. 

Esther  Charlock,  it  isn't  so  much  her  manners  we  've 
got  to  deal  with;  it  's  the  very  make  and  being  of  her. 
You  see  that  before  she  will  give  in  to  anything,  be 
cause  it  's  customary,  she  wants  to  go  clear  to  the  bottom 
of  the  custom,  and  settle  the  why  and  what  for.  You  've 
got  to  explain  the  very  foundation ;  to  dig  up  the  coun 
try  from  under  the  town.  She  wants  to  know  "why 
people  build  their  houses  right  up  against  each  other, 
if  they  don't  want  to  be  really  neighborly."  "They 
have  to,"  I  told  her.  "Land  is  dear  in  the  city." 
"What  makes  it?  "  —  "Why,  so  many  people  want  to 
live  here."  —  "What  for?  "  —  "Why,  for  convenience; 
to  buy  things,  and  to  get  things  done ;  and  for  business, 
and  amusement,  and  improvement,  and  society.  Every 
thing  is  in  the  city."  —  "But  everybody  doesn't  have 
everything;  and  it  doesn't  look  very  sociable  to  me, 
when  people  can't  speak  to  you  until  they  've  known 
you  always.  How  do  they  begin?"  —  So  there  she 
was,  back  into  the  creation.  I  only  told  her  she  would 
have  to  wait  and  see ;  that  it  was  necessary  to  be  par 
ticular,  to  keep  society  nice,  where  there  was  such  a 
mixture.  And  then  she  wanted  to  know  why  they  did  n't 
go  out  of  it  all,  where  there  was  plenty  of  room  to  be 
nice  and  separate.  What  did  they  want  of  a  mixture, 
if  they  could  n't  mix  ?  —  It  was  just  a  round  and  round  ; 
and  when  I  asked  her  how  they  could  have  theatres 


LETTERS.  65 

and  pictures  and  music  and  lectures  without  the  city 
to  get  together  in,  she  began  right  over.  —  "But  they 
aren't  together,  except  in  a  crowd;  and  I  don't  be 
lieve  they  would  need  the  theatres  so  much,  if  they 
could  see  into  each  other's  lives  a  little  more,  — didn't 
keep  all  the  window  curtains  down ;  and  as  to  the  pic 
tures  and  music,  they  might  have  a  whole  world  full  of 
what  those  were  made  from,  if  they  would  only  get  out 
a  little  way,  and  look  and  listen. "  —  So  I  said  again, 
"You'll  only  have  to  live  and  learn.  I  thought  you 
were  pleased  to  come  to  the  city."  —  "So  I  was,"  said 
she;  "only  to  doesn't  seem  to  be  into.  If  I  can  find 
the  into  of  it,  I  shall  like  it  well  enough."  — I  suppose 
she  would  like  to  have  the  fronts  of  the  houses  all  roll 
up,  like  drop  scenes,  and  see  the  whole  play  in  every 
one.  When  her  own  play  begins,  it  will  be  different. 
The  bell  has  n't  rung  yet;  she's  sitting  outside  of  all 
that,  too,  with  only  the  green  curtain  to  look  at. 

I  am  getting  her  ready  for  school.  That  is,  I  'm 
getting  new  best  dresses  for  her ;  I  mean  she  shall  take 
her  old  best  for  every  day.  I  want  her  to  appear  well 
at  the  start,  there  's  so  much  in  first  impressions. 

I  '11  put  in  a  pattern  of  her  new  silk.      Everything  is 
figured,  now.      But  this  is  double-faced,  and  will  turn. 
Yours  affectionately, 

VEBA  CLYMEB. 

ESTABEL    TO    AUNT    ESTHER. 

DEAR  AUNT  ETTIE,  —  Aunt  Vera  asked  me  if  I 
wanted  to  send  any  message,  and  I  told  her  no.  If 
it  's  going  to  be  writing  for  a  while,  instead  of  seeing, 
some  of  the  writing  is  going  to  be  mine.  And  I  wish 
you  'd  take  my  letter  down  into  the  garden,  among  the 
beans,  and  read  it  there  —  if  it 's  a  pleasant  day  when 
you  get  it.  Oh,  don't  I  wish  I  could  be  let  out!  I  'in 
not  unhappy,  either.  Aunt  Vera  is  good,  and  every- 


66  SQUARE  PEGS. 

thing  is  so  beautiful  here  that  I  can't  help  feeling 
grand,  and  liking  it:  only  there  isn't  any  real  bigness 
to  it ;  it  stops  right  in  the  tilings,  as  if  they  were  stones 
in  a  wall.  What  a  mercy  it  is  that  there  's  a  sky  over 
the  world,  and  a  sea  rolling  round  it,  and  birds  flying, 
and  fish  swimming,  somewhere.  I  do  so  wish  I  could 
be  in  the  fly,  and  in  the  swim.  [Estabel  did  not  know 
in  the  least  that  she  was  pre-inventing  modern  slang.] 
I  suppose  it  will  be  better  when  I  go  to  school,  and 
that  will  be  in  three  weeks  now. 

How  funny  it  is  to  think  that  there  are  people  in  all 
these  houses,  built  right  up  against  each  other,  and 
looking  across  to  each  other's  doors  and  windows;  and 
that  they  go  in  and  out,  with  latchkeys,  or  ringing  a 
bell,  and  then  the  door  shuts  fast,  and  you  see  nothing 
more  of  them  and  never  know  what  they  are  about,  or 
what  they  care  for.  And  the  minute  the  lamps  are 
lighted,  the  curtains  are  pulled  down,  and  nobody  ever 
sits  in  the  windows,  hardly.  I  think  it  is  like  the  Cata 
combs  !  But  then  you  have  a  lot  of  room  for  guessing, 
and  what  you  guess  about  people  is  very  likely  more  in 
teresting  than  what  you  ever  come  to  know.  At  any 
rate,  it  's  all  the  fun  there  is  in  it.  The  comfort  is,  it 
can't  be  so  at  school. 

It  seems  to  me  the  people  really  do  get  brickwall-y, 
living  this  way.  Aunt  Vera  took  me  with  her  one 
afternoon  to  pay  a  call  just  two  doors  down  the  street. 
There  is  a  girl  who  lives  there,  just  about  my  age. 
I  've  seen  her  on  the  balustrade,  the  next  but  one  to 
ours.  You  can  go  on  the  balustrade,  wrhen  you  can't 
stay  inside  any  longer,  because  it  is  at  the  back  of  the 
house.  Though  I  don't  see  exactly  what  makes  the 
difference,  for  there  are  yards  and  windows  all  around. 
It  is  only,  I  suppose,  that  there  is  no  street,  where 
people  are  walking  past.  There  are  grapevines,  too, 
about  our  balustrade,  and  wroodbines  about  hers,  so  we 
are  shaded  in,  and  can  only  just  look  over.  I  called 


LETTERS.  67 

out  to  that  girl  one  day,  but  I  didn't  dare  speak  quite 
loud  enough,  and  she  did  n't  answer,  nor  look  round,  so 
I  concluded  she  didn't  hear.  Or  perhaps  that  she 
thought  her  mother  called  her,  for  in  a  minute  more 
she  went  hack  into  the  room.  She  is  very  pretty,  and 
I  thought  I  should  like  to  know  her.  How  do  you 
begin  to  know  people  in  a  new  place  ?  I  don't  think 
she  has  lived  there  long,  either ;  for  Aunt  Vera  says 
the  houses  in  this  block  are  all  new,  and  that  they  had 
come  into  the  street  since  she  did,  and  so  it  was  her 
place  to  call. 

Well,  we  went ;  and  Aunt  Vera  sent  up  her  card,  — 
as  you  wouldn't,  you  know,  the  day  we  came  here! 
Mrs.  Chilstone  came  down  in  a  few  minutes,  with  her 
things  on ;  she  was  just  going  out,  she  said,  but  she  was 
polite  enough  just  to  light  down  on  a  chair,  —  you  could 
see  she  didn't  really  settle  into  it,  but  seemed  to  sit  on 
tiptoe,  —  and  she  and  Aunt  Vera  said  a  few  things 
while  Mrs.  Chilstone  was  putting  on  her  gloves,  about 
the  warm,  pleasant  weather,  and  the  nice  breeze  we 
had  here  from  the  river,  and  the  way  the  Round  was 
likely  to  be  built  up,  and  Aunt  Vera  hoped  she  would 
come  and  bring  her  daughter  to  see  me.  "Isn't  Miss 
Chilstone  at  home  ?  "  she  asked  right  out ;  and  I  thought 
Mrs.  Chilstone  looked  a  little  odd  and  stiff,  and  she 
just  said  Yes,  Corinna  was  at  home,  but  she  was  expect 
ing  her  music  teacher ;  and  with  that  she  finished  but 
toning  her  glove,  and  almost  got  up,  as  if  she  were  the 
visitor,  and  her  call  was  over.  So  Aunt  Vera  and  I 
came  away ;  and  it  was  half  an  hour  after  that  when  I 
saw  Mrs.  Chilstone  walk  up  the  street. 

I  am  telling  you  all  this  because  it  seems  so  queer, 
and  makes  the  city  such  a  puzzling  place;  and  I  can't 
help  hoping  that  if  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  in  a  city, 
it  won't  be  so  shut  up,  and  I  don't  believe  it  will,  be 
cause  the  walls  of  it  are  clear  precious  stones  that  the 
light  shines  through,  and  the  gates  are  never  shut  by 


68  SQUARE  PEGS. 

day,  and  there  isn't  any  night.  I  guess  that's  just 
what  it  means,  but  I  shouldn't  have  known  it,  if  it 
had  n't  been  for  finding  this  so  different. 

I  have  almost  done ;  only  the  rest,  so  far,  about  that 
girl,  Corinna  Chilstone,  is  that  I  met  her  right  out  here 
on  the  sidewalk,  yesterday  morning,  and  as  we  had 
been  to  see  her,  I  thought  I  might  show  I  remembered 
her,  and  would  like  to  speak.  So  I  smiled,  and  said, 
"  Good  morning ;  "  and  what  do  you  think  ?  She  just 
said,  with  her  lips  nipped  together  so  that  I  don't  know 
how  the  words  got  out  at  all,  except  that  they  were  so 
short  and  sharp,  —  "My  mother  doesn't  allow  me  to 
speak  with  strange  girls  on  the  street, "  and  marched 
right  straight  along.  Wasn't  I  mad?  And  don't  you 
think  she  was  horrid  ?  I  shall  have  to  stop  here,  for  if 
I  was  to  write  any  more,  I  'm  afraid  some  awful  words 
would  get  away  from  me  on  to  the  paper. 

So  good-by,  and  don't  think  I  'm  not  having  a  good 
time  because  of  these  few  things,  that  I  feel  better 
about  now  I  have  told  them.  Aunt  Vera  thinks  it  was 
all  accidental  about  the  short  call,  and  that  Corinna 
really  didn't  know  me,  and  I  shouldn't  have  spoken  to 
her  —  without  a  card  or  something,  I  suppose. 
Your  affectionate  niece, 

ESTABEL. 

P.  S. — There  are  plenty  and  plenty  of  beautiful 
books  here,  and  lots  of  lovely  people  in  them,  so  I  'm 
not  so  Arery  lonesome,  after  all.  I  never  was  lonesome 
till  I  came  where  there  are  so  many  people.  I  am 
reading  "  Lalla  Rookh, "  and  it  has  pictures  in  it,  and  is 
heavenly.  Only  I  'm  always  so  sorry  for  that  poor  Peri. 

MISS   CHARLOCK    TO    MRS.    CLYMER. 

DEAR  SISTER-IX-LAW-IN-LAW,  —  I  see  just  what 
puzzles  you  about  Estabel,  and  you  '11  have  to  do  as 
you  told  her,  —  wait  and  see.  I  've  been  waiting  and 


LETTERS.  69 

seeing  this  long  time,  or  rather  waiting  a,  long  time  and 
just  beginning  to  see.  If  it  will  do  you  any  good,  I 
will  tell  you  what  little  I  've  got  to  in  making  her  out. 

I  believe  I  told  you  before,  in  some  things  she  's  just 
a  baby,  and  again  in  others  she  might  have  been  born 
grown  up.  Outside,  she's  bran  new;  inside,  I  most 
think  sometimes  she  's  old  as  the  hills.  Perhaps  we  all 
are,  if  we  only  get  far  enough  into  ourselves  to  find  out. 

AVhat  I  mean  is,  that  in  what  concerns  manners  and 
things,  she  's  new;  she  isn't  one  of  the  sort  that  grows 
in  the  bark,  but  in  the  pith.  She  has  n't  got  the  touch 
with  things  that  folks  call  tact.  That  's  only  the  skin 
sense,  anyhow;  but  it's  all  some  folks  ever  have,  so 
they  make  much  of  it.  There  's  more  to  Estabel. 
She  's  got  flesh  and  heart,  and  that  's  what  she  '11  live 
in  and  understand  by,  when  she  comes  to  it  and  has  her 
chance.  That's  only  the  outside  of  the  inside,  too; 
the  real,  deep  inside  is  what  the  Lord  only  knows  and 
gets  at.  It  's  the  place  where  He  's  creating  us.  The 
flesh  and  the  heart  work  out  from  it,  and  show  what 
He  is  about  with  us.  Nobody  would  be  anybody  with 
out  them,  and  so  we  shall  always  have  them  somehow, 
though  we  shall  shed  our  skins  when  the  time  comes 
(Jobxix.  26;  Ps.  ii.  26). 

[Miss  Charlock  seldom  quoted  Scripture  verbally,  but 
she  knew  what  she  had  found  concerned  her  to  know, 
and  had  chapter  and  verse  for  it,  for  her  own  use  or 
the  rinding  of  others.] 

One  thing  you  '11  have  to  remember,  that  the  growing 
flesh  of  a  little  child  is  tender,  and  won't  bear  bruising. 
If  it  once  gets  sore  and  festered,  there  's  no  knowing 
what  mischief,  not  to  say  perhaps  corruption,  might 
take  hold.  There  's  more  than  one  way  to  spoil  a  child. 
Healthy  flesh  don't  gangrene;  happy  hearts  don't  get 
out  of  kilter.  Keep  her  bright  and  sweet  and  healthy, 
whatever  you  do.  If  you  find  you  can't,  send  her  back 
to  Still  wick.  She  '11  grow  slower  here,  maybe,  but  the 


70  SQUARE  PEGS. 

best  things  don't  grow  in  a  hurry,  nor  in  too  rich  earth; 
and  being  a  human  creature,  she  's  bound  to  grow  to 
something.  If  it  wasn't  that  you  've  a  perfect  right  to 
your  try  with  her,  I  should  have  elected  to  keep  her 
myself. 

I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  writing,  and  I  hope 
you  '11  write  often.  When  you  think  best,  I  shall  be 
glad  to  see  you  and  Estabel.  I  won't  put  in  any  mes 
sage  for  her,  as  I  'in  going  to  write  to  her  separately. 

Yours  truly, 

ESTHER  CHARLOCK. 

Miss  Charlock  announced  her  purpose  without  ques 
tion.  She  would  not  insist  upon  visits ;  she  thought, 
herself,  they  had  as  well  not  be  yet ;  but  she  meant  to 
keep  some  unbroken  link  with  the  child.  This  was 
what  she  wrote :  — 

DEAR  ESTABEL,  —  I  don't  know  exactly  what  to  say 
to  you  in  answer  to  all  you  told  me  in  your  letter.  I 
am  glad  you  aren't  homesick,  and  I  don't  believe  you 
will  be.  There  's  too  much  for  you  to  feel  interested 
in  finding  out  about,  even  the  things  that  are  partially 
unpleasant.  It  seems  to  m'e  that  it  's  just  here;  you  're 
in  a  new  outside,  and  outsides  are  different ;  but  the 
insides,  I  guess,  are  pretty  much  all  alike  everywhere, 
because  it 's  all  one  and  the  same  world,  and  the  same 
human  beings  in  it.  When  you  get  used  to  the  ways, 
you  '11  see  through  to  what  they  stand  for,  and  that  's 
where  you  '11  have  a  chance  to  choose.  It  's  like  learn 
ing  a  new  language.  I  never  did,  but  I  know.  The 
words  are  queer,  till  you  get  the  sense  of  them,  and 
then  you  see  they  mean  the  same  thing  as  your  own. 
Butter  's  butter,  whether  you  have  to  ask  for  it  in 
French  or  Dutch  or  English.  I  don't  know  about 
Hottentot  or  Esquimaux.  Probably  there  there  might 
be  a  difference  in  the  butter. 


LETTERS.  71 

But  don't  set  your  face  like  a  flint  against  the  ways, 
just  because  they  are  ways.  There  must  be  ways  and 
manners.  They  're  what  folks  understand  each  other 
by.  We  should  be  brickwall-y,  sure  enough,  without 
them.  And  don't  be  in  a  hurry  to  run  after  people, 
nor  to  run  away  from  them.  Wait  and  see.  And  do 
mend  your  stockings,  and  not  lose  your  pocket  handker 
chiefs,  nor  wear  your  gloves  with  rips  in  them. 

That  's  all  at  present;   with  kind  love,  from 

AUNT  ESTHER. 

P.  S.  —  Mind  and  smooth  out  your  bonnet  strings, 
and  don't  tie  them  in  ropes. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

SCHOOL    EXPERIENCE. 

MR.  SATTERWOOD'S  schoolroom  was  a  large  parlor  in 
an  old-fashioned  house  that  he  had  hired  in  an  old-fash 
ionable  locality.  It  was  a  corner  room,  and  looked  out, 
with  four  windows,  on  the  street,  and  into  a  courtyard 
behind.  Back  of  the  courtyard  ran  a  broken  ascent, 
partly  green  and  partly  gravel,  around  whose  base  new 
building  was  going  on.  This  open  ground  was  free  to 
the  scholars  as  playground. 

Two  long  tables  extended  through  the  room,  from 
before  Mr.  Satterwood's  desk  and  the  recitation  benches, 
to  the  street  windows.  These  tables  were  covered  with 
green  cloth,  and  surrounded  by  flag-bottomed  chairs,  in 
which  the  pupils  sat  as  close  together  as  reasonable  el 
bow  room  allowed.  Sometimes,  of  course,  unreasonable 
elbow  room  was  taken,  and  cause  for  dispute  or  appeal 
arose,  as  will  always  happen  in  an  elbow-crowding  com 
munity. 

Mr.  Satterwood  had  come  from  England,  with  high 
credentials  arul  introductions.  Topthorpe  had  taken 
him  up,  and  the  best  families  were  sending  their  daugh 
ters  to  him.  This  parlor  arrangement,  rather  than  a 
bare  schoolroom  with  common,  hard  desks,  seemed  a 
particularly  private  and  happy  one  to  the  Topthorpe 
ladies  who  were  here  represented.  It  was  the  more  of 
an  ordeal  to  a  stranger  like  Estabel,  coming  in  alone,  to 
face  the  cold  inquisitiveness  that  glanced  up  at  her,  or 
the  colder  indifference  that  never  turned  or  lifted  itself 
from  around  those  elliptic  lines  of  select  assemblage. 


SCHOOL  EXPERIENCE.  73 

A  whispered  word  had  preceded  her.  It  came  from 
Corinna  Chilstone,  who  had  entered  at  the  street  door 
at  the  same  moment  with  Mrs.  Clymer  and  Estabel. 

"She  arrived  in  a  barouche,  with  two  horses." 

"How  silly!  " 

"So  vulgar!  " 

"The  barouche  is  shiny  new,  and  so  are  the  people. 
They  live  in  our  street,  but  mamma  says  she  is  sure  she 
doesn't  know  where  they  belong." 

Mrs.  Clymer  had  made  another  of  her  mistakes.  She 
had  chosen  this  morning  to  drive  to  Roystonport,  to 
visit  a  friend,  and  on  her  way  had  brought  Estabel 
round  in  state,  to  make  a  "first  impression."  The  im 
pression  was  made,  and  Estabel  had  an  uncomfortable 
five  minutes  while  Mr.  Satterwood  paused  below  to 
speak  with  Mrs.  Clymer. 

When  he  came  upstairs,  he  called  the  school  imme 
diately  to  order,  and  assigned  a  seat  to  the  newcomer. 
She  found  herself  between  two  girls  who  drew  apart  to 
make  room  for  her,  whether  politely  or  not  was  not 
precisely  evident.  One  of  the  two  looked  pleasant,  but 
made  no  sign.  The  other  sent  a  glance,  as  if  for  a  cue, 
across  to  Corinna  Chilstone,  who  was  directly  opposite 
with  hard,  avoiding  face,  and  who  sent  a  look,  like  a 
grazing  shot,  carefully  past  Estabel,  with  a  significant 
half  smile.  That  smile,  and  the  previous  whispered 
word,  were  like  the  straw  and  the  pebble  which  deter 
mined  at  the  outset  the  ti'end  of  channel  for  the  young 
human  spirit  that  had  its  way  to  wend  in  a  new  strange 
countryside.  » 

Another  thing  had  been  foolishly  done,  to  add  a 
ready  prejudice.  The  "veriest  best  "  dress  was  chosen 
for  Estabel 's  first  school  wear;  a  "chine',  "  or  clouded, 
silk,  lilac  and  gray,  with  lace  at  the  neck  and  sleeves, 
and  a  ribbon  sash.  There  was  nothing  showy  about  it, 
—  a  modest  little  best  dress  enough,  —  but  out  of  place 
and  conspicuous  among  the  ginghams  and  French  prints, 


74  SQUARE  PEGS. 

with  which  were  worn  the  schoolgirl  finish  only  of  white 
linen  cuffs  and  collars,  and  perhaps  a  black  silk  apron. 

"It's  Wednesday;  she's  all  ready  for  dancing 
school, "  whispered  one  girl  at  recess,  quite  within  her 
hearing.  It  was  the  girl  who  had  got  the  cue  of  the 
smile  from  Corinna  Chilstone. 

"That  's  why  she  had  to  come  in  her  carriage,"  re 
turned  a  second,  as  the  two,  following  their  leader, 
passed  Estabel  through  the  garden  gate,  beyond  which 
nobody  invited  her. 

"  Dancing  school !  Carriage !  "  she  heard  Miss  Chil 
stone  say  over  her  shoulder,  with  a  little  sound  too 
scornful  for  a  laugh.  "Everything  's  getting  so  disgust 
ingly  common.  Do  you  believe  Scalchi  will  take  her  ?  " 

"Mr.  Satterwood  has.  Did  you  notice,  there  's  a 
whole  new  class,  now,  of  '  common  things  '  ?  " 

The  latter  sentences  had  been  beyond  hearing,  but 
the  deriding  titter  came  back. 

Now  a  "Philosophy  of  Common  Things  "  was  an  in 
troductory  text-book  for  the  study  of  Physics.  Four  or 
five  new  scholars,  among  whom  was  Estabel,  had  been 
formed  into  a  class  for  a  morning  lesson  in  it. 

The  witticism  circulated.  There  was  suppressed 
mirth  when  the  abbreviated  title  was  given  in  the  call 
for  recitation.  Afterward,  Mr.  Satterwood  quietly 
changed  the  word  of  summons.  "Fourth  Class  in  Phi 
losophy  "  it  became.  And  then,  in  the  movement  that 
followed,  there  would  be  a  smile  and  a  rustle  around 
the  second  table,  and  a  pantomimic  "Common  things, 
—  common  things, "  be  passed  from  lip  to  lip. 

A  great  American  prima  donna  once  told  the  writer 
of  this  story  that  a  certain  European  people  was  the 
most  cruel  of  all  audiences  to  play  to.  "They  have 
always  treated  me  well, "  she  said ;  "  but  I  would 
rather  make  an  engagement  in  any  city  in  the  world 
than .  They  will  pick  up  some  little  flaw  of  per 
formance,  or  trick  of  personality,  and  make  an  insult 


SCHOOL   EXPERIENCE.  75 

of  it.  I  once  played  in  with  a  fine  tenor.  His 

voice  and  style  were  perfect ;  wonderful  for  sweetness 
and  control.  And  he  was  a  gentleman ;  sensitive,  too, 
as  all  musical  souls  are.  It  happened  that  he  had  a 
slight  nasal  utterance,  in  certain  combinations  of  conso 
nants  ;  he  could  not  pronounce  '  Linda '  clearly ;  the 
first  syllable  was,  as  we  say,  through  the  nose.  That 
poor  man  couldn't  come  on  the  stage  in  that  opera,  but 
the  whole  house  would  be  watching,  and  then  '  N-l-nda, ' 
'  N-l-nda, '  '  N-l-nda, '  would  run  in  a  little  low,  mean 
mockery  all  through  the  auditorium  and  galleries,  con 
fusing  his  beautiful  notes,  and  sometimes  silencing  him. 
It  was  a  persecution;  it  forced  the  breaking  of  his  en 
gagement,  and  was  the  ruin  of  his  whole  year's  work." 

A  school  of  girls,  —  or  a  few  girls  in  a  school,  for 
they  are  but  few,  as  they  aspire  to  be,  —  may  be  cruel 
as  Turk,  or  Cossack,  or  Spaniard,  or  wild,  war-painted 
Apache  Indian.  And  in  those  days  there  was  a  certain 
crude  fashion  —  among  the  few,  always  to  be  under 
stood  in  qualification  —  of  being  openly  cruel.  Quiz 
zing  and  snubbing  were  done  without  disguise,  as  we 
read  in  last-century  novels  of  their  being  done  in  aristo 
cratic  London.  Everybody,  now,  of  course,  is  a  great 
deal  too  well-bred.  If  there  is  a  sting,  it  is  politely 
covered;  if  there  is  a  cold  shoulder,  it  is  but  turned 
inwardly,  to  an  inward  apprehension.  "Tempora  mu- 
tantur ;  "  let  us  hope  that  the  rest  of  the  old  Latin  pro 
verb  is  surely,  if  but  gradually,  coming  to  be  the  setting 
forth  of  essential  truth. 

Such  small  barbarisms  seem  scarcely  worth  remember 
ing  or  recounting;  but  nothing  is  inconsiderable  which 
gives  bias  to  feeling  and  character;  and  these  early  ex 
periences  of  Estabel's  girlhood  shaped  very  much  her 
estimates  of  life,  and  were  initial  to  much  for  her  in  its 
more  important  issues.  In  this  intricacy  of  cause  and 
effect  and  influence  which  by  great  and  little  determines 
our  development,  who  shall  say  what  is  most  vital  and 
far  reaching  ? 


76  SQUARE   PEGS. 

Estabel  wanted  friends.  She  wanted  to  have  a  good 
time.  For  that  she  had  wished  to  be  among  girls. 
Here  were  girls ;  hut  where  were  the  friends  ?  where 
was  the  good  time? 

It  is  a  strange  thing,  but  practically  true,  that  a 
handful  of  persons,  old  or  young,  arrogating  to  them 
selves  privilege,  can  throw  a  whole  community  out  of 
satisfying  social  sympathy.  It  is  also  a  sure  axiom  that 
the  masses  do  not  know  their  own  power.  If  they  did, 
they  could  rise  and  assert  themselves  in  their  turn,  — 
not  by  outbreak,  not  by  insult  for  insult,  but  by  qui 
etly,  and  without  reference  to  any,  assuming  for  them 
selves  ;  evolving  their  own  possibilities,  on  their  own 
open  lines ;  mutually  gravitating  into  a  gentle  order, 
and  by  as  natural  organization  as  planets  group  them 
selves  in  systems.  No  system  fills  the  whole  firmament ; 
there  is  not  one  circle  of  heavenly  bodies  and  all  the 
rest  chaos.  Nobody,  with  a  soul  and  a  purpose,  need 
be  in  chaos. 

Whether  the  same  independence  might  declare  itself 
in  the  perplexing  involvements  of  tangible,  material  in 
terests,  is  a  question  that  may  not  be  solvable  as  yet  by 
the  enunciation  of  any  inclusive  principle  of  power  in 
human  action ;  but  that  morally  and  socially  there  may 
be  a  grand  freedom  and  universality,  an  absolute  ignor 
ing  and  consequent  demolition  of  cobweb  lines  of  de 
marcation  and  hindrance,  is  as  sure  as  that  every  human 
being  is  complete  in  individual  potentials,  and  that  there 
is  room  and  relation  for  every  one  in  the  wide  unity  of 
the  kingdom  of  God. 

Life,  at  the  best,  is  severe  with  us.  It  seizes  upon 
us  unawares.  It  demands  of  us  what  we  have  not  yet 
attained.  We  never  begin  it  fully  equipped  for  the 
fight.  We  are  plunged  into  the  midst  of  choices  before 
we  have  the  heavenly  or  the  earthly  wisdom  to  compre 
hend  or  discriminate.  Things  determine  themselves 
unfairly.  If  this  is  most  eminently  and  disastrously 


SCHOOL  EXPERIENCE.  77 

true  where  the  little  new  human  soul  falls  at  its  birth 
among  the  baser  "  thieves  '"'  of  an  open  abuse  and  depravity, 
the  fact  confronts  us  also  in  a  thousand  subtle  ways  in 
finer  circumstance.  Frank,  unwary  impulses  are  trapped 
into  mistakes,  natural  desires  are  hindered  by  their  own 
simplicity,  hope  is  thwarted  in  its  advance  by  the  very 
eagerness  which  anticipates  a  sagacious  judgment  and 
displaces  a  calm  patience. 

There  are  those  who  are  born  hedged  in  from  coarse 
perils,  who  would  be  no  stronger  against  them  than  the 
helplessness  which  falls  under  the  compulsion  or  entice 
ment  of  crime.  There  are  those,  as  certainly,  who  are 
put  from  the  start  into  assured,  defended  social  station, 
where  a  little  folly  will  be  condoned,  a  passing  blunder 
smoothed  over,  and  no  prestige  or  consideration  lost ; 
and  who  owe  to  this  immunity  a  success  which  might 
otherwise  have  been  mortification  and  failure.  "One 
of  us  "  cannot  easily  forfeit. 

But,  ah,  for  the  young  thing  whose  every  little  incau- 
tiousness  is  scanned,  every  inadvertence  condemned,  be 
cause  of  its  fresh  proof  that  of  such  is  not,  and  cannot 
be,  the  kingdom  of  the  elite !  Truly,  the  little  children 
are  not  all  suffered  to  come  and  receive  the  benediction. 

Estabel's  experience  at  school  made  her  at  once  self- 
distrustful  and  resentfully  assertive.  It  made  her  at 
once  too  proud  to  acknowledge  snub,  and  too  sensitive 
to  help  caring  for  that  which  she  endeavored  to  despise. 
She  was  full  of  contradictions.  She  was  sometimes 
rude  in  reprisal,  and  again  too  amiable  in  conciliation. 
Some  things  she  haughtily  kept  to  herself  which  might 
have  stood  her  in  advantage ;  some  others  she  let  appear 
which  were  trivial  and  pretentious  —  these,  because  they 
seemed  to  her  the  things  continually  judged  by,  fitted 
to  a  trivial  and  pretentious  apprehension. 

"Don't  tell  anybody  you 're  my  —  any  sort  of  a  — 
cousin, "  she  said  to  Harry  Henslee  at  one  of  Signor 
Scalchi's  "Saturday  evenings."  "Let  them  think  you 


78  SQUARE  PEGS. 

are  just  polite  because  you  happened  to  know  me  a  little 
at  Stillwick." 

For  all  that,  the  fact  that  Harry  Henslee  danced  with 
her  had  its  effect.  He  took  her  without  hesitation  into 
one  of  the  top  sets  of  the  quadrille,  where  by  tacit  law 
nobody  out  of  a  certain  charmed  young  circle  presumed 
upon  a  place. 

"Where  did  you  ever  know  her?  "  asked  Rose  Alden, 
his  next  partner. 

"At  my  grandfather's,  Colonel  Henslee 's,  in  Still- 
wick,"  was  the  reply.  "We  are  old  playmates." 

And  presently,  in  the  pause  between  the  dances,  Rose 
Alden,  finding  herself  next  to  Estabel  in  the  pretty  side 
line  of  young  girls,  remarked  affably  to  her  that  Scalchi 
had  given  them  lovely  music  to-night,  —  two  extra 
pieces ;  and  she  hoped  a  waltz  cotillon  was  coming  next. 
It  was  in  the  early  dawn  of  the  "german." 

Estabel  flushed  up  with  simple  pleasure.  She  had 
been  so  used  to  standing  silent,  or  just  slipping  to  Aunt 
Vera's  side  upon  one  of  the  chaperons'  sofas.  Rose 
Alden  was  not  of  the  every-day  Satterwood  constituency ; 
Estabel  only  met  her  here ;  she  attended  some  other 
school,  and  was  truly  a  girl  as  little  tainted  as  might 
be  by  the  miasma  of  her  social  sphere.  Upon  really 
high  ground,  the  miasma  does  not  so  easily  creep.  Her 
little  overture  was  quite  uncompelled,  and  so  the  more 
touchingly  gracious.  Whether  it  would  have  occurred 
to  her  to  make  it  but  for  that  word  of  Harry  Henslee 's, 
is  perhaps  a  needless  question.  So  much  of  the  best  that 
is  done  depends  upon  a  happening.  To  Estabel  Charlock 
the  act  was  that  of  a  sweet  little  Samaritan,  right  out 
of  a  gospel  parable.  She  would  not  presume  upon  such 
gentlehood.  She  moved  away  a  little,  lest  she  should 
seem  to  expect  more. 

Estabel 's  old  way  of  dreaming  followed  her  in  her 
new  world.  To  really  know  girls  like  Rose  Alden ; 
to  run  with  them  in  and  out  of  their  houses,  —  houses 


SCHOOL   EXPERIENCE.  79 

whose  entrances  she  passed  with  a  kind  of  wonder  what 
it  would  be  to  pass  freely  in;  to  have  it  felt  no  intru 
sion  to  greet  them  heartily,  to  turn  and  walk  with  them, 
to  make  little  afternoon  plans  with  them  as  schoolmates 
do  with  each  other ;  —  these  things,  which  would  simply 
mean  a  nearness  to  that  which  seemed  beautiful  and 
choice,  were  the  unreached  mirage  that  at  once  stimu 
lated  and  mocked  her  realities.  Her  afternoons,  when 
she  did  not  drive  out  with  her  Aunt  Vera,  were  for  the 
most  part  spent  solitarily  enough,  except  for  the  com 
panionship  of  books,  and  the  innocent  translation  of  the 
life  in  them  to  the  fine,  empty  stage  scene  of  her  own 
surroundings.  More  and  more  she  adored  the  possible 
but  far-off  poetry  of  existence ;  more  and  more  she 
longed  to  attach  to  herself  some  little  portion  of  its 
beauty ;  to  move,  in  some  simple  measure,  to  its  rare, 
sweet  rhyme  and  cadence.  In  these  days  she  had  fre 
quent  deep  consultations  with  her  own  mirrored  reflec 
tion.  "  If  I  were  only  pretty  —  very  pretty  —  I  be 
lieve  I  could  bear  almost  anything!  "  she  would  think. 
Yes;  whatever  befell,  she  would  then  be  the  lovely 
heroine  in  a  real  story ;  the  passing  details  would  hardly 
matter;  a  story,  with  a  lovely  heroine  in  it,  is  so  cer 
tain  somehow  to  come  out  right. 

She  did  not  tell  her  disappointments  to  her  Aunt 
Vera.  She  knew  what  that  lady  expected  of  her,  and 
it  was  a  trouble  to  her,  for  that  reason,  not  to  accom 
plish  it.  And  Aunt  Vera  was  in  a  hurry. 

"Why  don't  you  ask  the  Arkleys  here?  "  she  would 
demand  of  Estabel. 

"I  don't  know  them  well  enough." 

"You  see  them  every  day.  Why  don't  you  know 
them  well  enough  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  they  care  to  have  me." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"Aunt  Vera,  it  is  you,  now,  that  make  an  auger  of 
your  '  why, '  as  you  tell  me  I  do, "  the  girl  answered, 


80  SQUARE  PEGS. 

laughing;  and  would  not  be  interrogated  any  more. 
"Let  me  open  those  wools,  and  hold  them  for  you  to 
wind. "  she  said. 

And  Aunt  Vera  had  reached  near  enough  to  her  point 
not  to  care  to  drive  her  auger  any  deeper. 

Estabel  had  a  friend  in  the  house,  however,  with 
whom  she  was  more  confidential.  Sarah  —  or  Sara  — 
Sullivant  was  a  sharp  woman ;  not  only  sharp,  but 
sympathetic  —  where  she  cared.  And  from  the  begin 
ning  she  had  cared  for  this  girl,  bright  and  sweet  and 
natural,  not  made  in  the  Topthorpe  mould,  and  plainly 
destined  for  many  a  pinch  and  rasp  before  she  could  be 
fitted  into  it. 

It  was  to  Sara  that  Estabel  told  her  woe  when  she 
came  home  one  day  in  the  shame  and  rage  of  an  unfair 
"deportment  "  mark. 

"It  was  all  that  horrid  Corinna  Chilstone, "  she  said. 
"She  sat  next  me  in  the  class,  and  turned  her  back  to 
me  —  almost  square  round ;  and  so  I  just  turned  the 
same  way  and  put  my  slate  up  against  her  shoulders  — 
we  were  doing  dictation.  Mr.  Satterwood  was  at  the 
other  end,  looking  at  a  girl's  '  die;  '  and  I  would  have 
taken  it  away  directly,  for  I  knew  she  would  have  to 
come  back  into  position  before  he  got  near ;  but  she  gave 
such  a  mad  shrug,  and  made  it  fall  —  bang  —  upon  the 
floor,  broken  all  to  pieces.  Mr.  Satterwood  does  hate 
a  noise,  and  he  came  right  down  upon  us ;  and  there  she 
was,  as  calm  as  a  clock  and  as  innocent  as  a  pussy  cat, 
sitting  as  if  she  had  n't  moved  fora  week,  and  just  look 
ing  up  with  her  eyes  rounded  big  in  that  surprised  way 
at  girls  that  don't  know  how  — while  I  was  picking  up 
the  shatters.  '  Miss  Charlock,  how  happened  that  ?  ' 
said  he.  'I  got  provoked, '  said  I,  which  was  the  sol 
emn  truth,  and  I  let  it  go  so.  And  she  never  said  boo, 
but  let  him  think  I  smashed  it  down  in  a  temper;  and 
he  gave  me  a  provisional  2.  That  girl  is  too  hateful  to 
endure ! " 


SCHOOL  EXPERIENCE.  81 

"What  is  a  '  provisional  2  '  ?  "  asked  Sara. 

"It 's  a  mark  that  can  be  redeemed  by  the  average 
of  marks  for  the  month." 

"H'm!  That 's  a  good  gospel  idea,"  said  Sara.  "I 
guess  he  mistrusted  more  'n  you  told  him.  A  school 
master  's  no  business  to  be  a  fool." 

"He  asked  me  afterward  what  I  had  been  provoked 
about,  and  I  said  I  would  rather  not  tell." 

•"Don't  you  worry.  You'll  everige  all  right, "  said 
Sara. 

"It  isn't  that  so  much.  Mr.  Satterwood  is  fair. 
But  I  can  —  not  bear  —  that  —  girl !  "  She  spoke  with 
long,  emphatic  dashes  between  her  words. 

"There  's  one  comfort,"  said  Sara  Sullivant.  "You 
only  have  to  put  up  with  her ;  but  she  has  to  put  up 
with  —  the  devil !  " 

Estabel  stared,  but  took  in  at  the  same  moment  the 
fundamental  principle  of  a  Christian  charity. 

"  Well,  she  does  have  the  worst  of  it  —  perhaps, " 
she  said,  and  laughed,  which  was  what  Sara  Sullivant 
wanted. 

"I  presume  likely  she  is  pretty  much  clear  cat,"  said 
Sara  again.  "If  I  was  you  I  'cl  let  her  alone,  and  see 
if  I  couldn't  find  some  butter." 

"Why,  Sarra!  Cat!  Butter!  What  are  you  talk 
ing  about  ?  " 

"I  s'pose  you  never  heard  that  story.  Well,  it 's  a 
kind  of  a  country  parable  an  old  lady  used  to  tell  that 
I  knew  at  home  in  State  o'  Maine.  An'  it  's  jest  as 
true  in  one  place  as  another  —  the  real  true  of  it. 
Otherways,  it  don't  sound  very  pleasant." 

"Tell  me  the  parable,"  demanded  Estabel. 

"Yes,  I  was  lay  in'  out  to.  You  see,  there  was  an 
other  old  woman  —  so  she  said  —  that  had  a  churnin' 
to  do.  And  after  she  'd  got  it  all  ready  and  begun, 
she  put  a  boy  at  it,  an'  went  off  on  some  partickler 
arrant  she  had.  Well,  the  boy  had  an  arrant,  too,  — 


82  SQUARE  PEGS. 

something  connected  with  a  pocket  full  of  new  marbles. 
So  he  churned  awhile,  — first  with  the  dasher  of  the 
churn,  and  again  with  his  hand  in  his  pocket  among  the 
marbles ;  and  then  he  took  off  the  lid  of  the  churn  and 
looked  in,  and  the  butter  hadn't  come.  So  he  concluded 
to  make  sure  of  his  own  business,  and  give  the  cream 
a  rest ;  and  off  he  went,  without  ever  putting  the  lid 
on;  and  the  cat  got  in. 

"It  took  him  about  half  an  hour  to  lose  all  his  mar 
bles,  and  then  he  came  back  in  a  hurry,  clapped  on  the 
lid,  and  worked  away  for  dear  life  at  the  crank,  and 
churned  up  the  cat." 

"  How  could  he  ?  "  Estabel  interrupted  incredulously. 

"  J  don't  know.  That 's  the  parable.  I  ain't  re 
sponsible,  no  more  'n  I  am  for  original  sin.  The  cat 
got  churned  up;  that's  the  story,  and  you've  got  to 
take  a  story  as  the  story-teller  tells  it,  cat  an'  all.  The 
cat  got  churned  up;  an'  the  old  lady  came  back,  and 
the  boy  guessed  the  butter  had  come,  an'  a  mighty  lot 
of  it.  Well,  it  had ;  there  it  was  —  and  all  the  rest 
of  it.  When  she  had  cuffed  the  boy  right  and  left  till 
he  was  about  as  mixed  up  as  the  critter  an'  the  cream, 
the  old  lady  went  to  work  and  emptied  out  the  churn. 
She  was  a  sensible  woman,  and  a  savin'  one.  '  I  can't 
afford  to  lose  all  that  butter,  any  way, '  says  she.  So 
she  got  three  big  pans,  an'  set  'em  in  a  row  along 
the  table,  an'  began  to  sort  out  three  different  piles. 
'  That 's  butter, '  says  she ;  "  and  Sara  illustrated  with 
her  index  finger,  as  she  went  on,  over  the  three  imagi 
nary  pans.  "'An'  that's  —  butter-an'-cat ;  and  that 's 
—  all  cat!  '  — Now  that 's  just  the  way  it  's  been  with 
human  nachur,  ever  sence  the  Old  Boy  was  left  with  the 
churn.  —  I  s'pose  likely  there  '11  be  a  sortin'  out  some 
time,  an'  no  butter  '11  be  thrown  away ;  but  what  concerns 
us  now  is  to  keep  as  clear  of  the  cat  part  as  we  can. 
Don't  have  anything  at  all  to  do  with  that  Chilstone  girl, 
nor  any  of  her  tribe.  Don't  get  mixed  up  with  'em." 


SCHOOL  EXPERIENCE.  83 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Estabel.  "If  I  could,  I 
wouldn't.  I 'd  be  glad  to  be  the  one  to  let  alone. 
I  don't  want  them,  in  the  least;  but  I  don't  like  to  be 
pushed  off.  And  the  nice  ones  can't  be  got  at,  sepa 
rate.  The  butter  and  cat  are  all  mixed  up." 

"In  this  week's  churnin',  maybe;  but  there's  more 
to  come,"  said  Sara.  "If  you  can't  sort  out,  just 
wait.  And  as  to  being  pushed  — why,  it 's  a  poor  rule 
that  don't  work  both  ways.  I  learnt  philosophy  a  little 
at  school,  and  I  know  there  's  two  ends  to  a  magnet, 
and  if  you  turn  two  wrong  ends  to  each  other,  they  both 
push  away.  Just  look  at  it  that  way;  do  your  own 
pushin'  —  in  your  own  mind,  at  least  —  't  ain't  worth 
any  other  —  and  have  the  satisfaction.  And  don't  lose 
other  chances.  I  know  how  'tis;  I  haven't  lived  in 
Topthorpe  twelve  years  —  nor  yet  on  this  number-three 
planet  for  forty  —  without  seein'  things.  Folks  are  all 
in  the  same  procession.  It  don't  make  such  a  great 
sight  of  difference  where  you  hitch  on;  everybody  can't 
be  at  the  head ;  no  more  could  there  be  any  head  if 
there  was  n't  any  procession.  It  is  n't  the  real  head 
that  makes  any  trouble;  that  's  generally  away  on  some 
where,  out  of  sight.  It  's  the  hustling  and  treading  on 
heels  in  the  ranks.  The  kind  of  people  that  hustle  ain't 
actchally  any  more  important  than  them  they  think 
they  're  crowdin'  back.  Keep  your  own  place,  and 
keep  step  with  your  neighbors;  don't  try  to  catch  up 
or  get  by.  March  to  the  music;  the  band  plays  for 
you  as  much  as  for  anybody." 

"Aunt  would  n't  be  satisfied  with  that,  "  said  Estabel, 
in  her  great  longing  for  sympathy  telling  this  plain, 
kindly  woman  the  whole.  "She  wants  me  to  catch  up. 
She  would  like  me  to  be  among  those  that  lead  off. 
She  's  disappointed.  And  I  'm  —  un  —  happy!  "  The 
last  words  came  with  a  choke,  which  she  coughed  away 
valiantly,  throwing  her  head  up  high. 

"The  mistake,"  said  Sara  Sullivant,    "is  liable  to  be 


84  SQUARE  PEGS. 

about  who  does  lead  off.  'T  ain't  the  little  ragamuffins 
who  run  ahead  an'  holler,  any  more  than  't  's  the  ones 
that  tag  after  at  the  tail." 

"  I  shall  never  tag  after, "  said  Estabel  with  disdain, 
her  head  still  in  the  air.  And  that  was  the  end. 

But  on  her  pillow  that  night  the  proud  little  head 
lay  passive  to  sorely  persistent  thought. 

"I  don't  want  to  tag  on,"  she  said  to  herself.  "But 
I  want  to  be  wanted !  Oh,  if  I  were  only  as  beautiful 
as  Eleanor  Charlock!  Why  can't  great-aunts  leave 
their  beauty  in  their  wills  for  somebody  that  it  would 
make  so  happy !  " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SOCIAL  ICEBERGS. 

THERE  is  a  belt  of  icebergs  in  the  Northern  Ocean. 
They  seem  to  have  it  all  their  own,  hard,  glittering, 
outshutting  way.  It  is  a  terrible  endeavor,  to  come  up 
from  the  safe,  pleasant  greenness  and  warmth  of  a  tem 
perate  zone,  and  strive,  with  restless,  urgent  ambition, 
to  penetrate  their  fastnesses  and  abide  in  their  chill. 
But  who  does  it  for  an  abiding?  Beyond  the  icebergs, 
it  has  been  believed,  is  an  Open  Sea.  Men  have  longed 
to  find  it.  The  icebergs  were  the  things  that  were  in 
the  way,  and  would  be  till  the  true  path  that  should 
pass  by  them,  untouched  by  their  threat,  through  some 
safe,  sure  channel,  should  be  found. 

Beyond  our  social  icebergs  —  beyond  all  repulse  and 
chill  and  desolateness,  under  the  pole  star  of  an  eter 
nal  Truth  —  is  a  possible  fair  outstretch  of  calm  space 
for  natural  human  life  and  human-hearted  fellowship. 
To  discover  this,  perhaps,  —  to  find  at  any  rate  the 
great  magnetic  secret  which  centres  and  sways  the  whole 
vast  order  to  a  sublime  unity  and  movement,  —  is  the 
only  sufficient  end  for  which  to  approach  any  stern  and 
frozen  outworks  of  an  Arctic  Circle.  It  is  the  hope, 
hidden  and  instinctive,  of  reaching  to  the  beautiful  heart 
and  best  of  things,  which  moves  desire  and  struggle. 
That  which  encrusts  and  hinders  is  not  coveted  for  it 
self.  Nobody  cares  to  rest  among  the  floes  and  gla 
ciers.  We  think  they  barricade  from  us  some  noblest 
knowledge,  some  supreme  experience ;  and  human  aspira 
tion  urges  onward  always  toward  the  noble  and  supreme. 


86  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Something  of  this  great  impulse,  all  uncomprehended, 
was  behind  our  little  Estabel's  restlessness  and  chagrin. 
It  was  behind  even  Mrs.  Clymer's  small  ambitions,  if 
she  could  but  have  understood  it  in  herself,  and  by  such 
understanding  have  been  freed  from  their  smallness. 
Except  that  this  was  so,  and  is  always  so,  it  would  not 
be  worth  while  to  follow  for  a  moment  any  such  exter 
nal  effort,  or  to  consider  what  so  paltrily  opposed  it. 
The  very  paltriness  and  offense  are  the  mistakes  of  a 
selfishness  moved  by  the  selfsame  longing  and  demand 
for  the  best,  and  stopping  short  at  its  miserable  simu 
lacrum. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  this  entire  first  winter 
of  her  school  and  city  life  was,  after  all,  an  unbroken 
loneliness  and  unmitigated  disappointment  to  Estabel. 
Nothing  is  quite  without  exception  or  mitigation.  In 
deed,  there  need  have  been  no  very  bitter  disappoint 
ment,  had  she  not  felt  that  she  was  continually  falling 
short  of  what  was  expected  of  her;  had  she  been  per 
mitted  to  follow  up  freely  the  easier  natural  possibilities 
that  offered  to  her.  The  severer  expectations  were  al 
ways  interposed,  and  made  so  plainly  evident.  Some 
things,  some  beginnings,  were  so  quickly  negatived  or 
disfavored ;  some  others,  as  to  which  she  had  neither 
option  nor  control,  were  so,  by  comparison,  demanded. 

For  instance. 

"I  should  like  to  have  the  Goodwins  here  to  tea, 
Aunt  Vera." 

"What  Goodwins?" 

"Why,  Kitty  and  Helen.  The  ones  that  go  to  our 
school  —  and  our  church,  you  know.  They  sit  right  be 
hind  the  Waldons.  They  live  over  in  Hemlock  Street." 

"  Do  you  know  who  they  are,  Mr.  Clymer  ?  " 

"I  know  Goodwin  —  in  a  way.  He  's  a  retired  sea 
captain." 

"Oh!  "  Mrs.  Clymer's  "Oh!  "  was  sufficiently  sig 
nificant  to  Estabel. 


SOCIAL  ICEBER'GS.  87 

"They  are  very  nice  girls,"  she  said,  with  a  chival 
rous  brevity  as  significant  in  its  turn  as  the  dignity  of 
fifteen  and  the  certainty  of  a  true  position  could  make 
it. 

"That's  quite  likely;  but  —  you  know  very  well, 
Estabel,  that  we  wish  you  to  be  discriminating  in  your 
intimacies." 

"So  I  am.  I  like  the  Goodwins,  because  they  are 
worth  liking. " 

"How  does  it  happen  that  the  girls  worth  liking  all 
live  in  some  Hemlock  Street  or  Orchard  Place,  and 
are  daughters  of  sea  captains  or  shoe-shop  people  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  aunt,  I  'm  sure,"  she  answered  most 
demurely.  Then  taking  up  the  other  end  of  the  argu 
ment,  "Was  n't  Mr.  Gould  Finche  a  shipmaster,  too?  " 

Mr.  Clymer  rose  to  that  challenge  and  to  the  oppor 
tunity  in  his  especial  line  of  positional  and  genealogical 
conversance. 

"That  's  a  very  different  case,"  he  said  loftily,  as  if 
he  had  been  himself  a  Gould  Finche.  "He  sailed  his 
own  vessels,  and  carried  his  own  cargoes.  He  voyaged 
to  the  Canary  Islands  and  to  India,  and  brought  home 
teas  and  spices  and  wines  and  silks.  He  made  a  big 
fortune.  Besides,  it  's  a  different  family.  His  mother 
was  a  Siskin  and  his  wife  was  a  Redpoll.  They  're  all 
birds  of  a  feather,  and  flock  together,  —  the  Linnets 
and  the  Bullfinches  and  the  Grosbekes  and  the  Rice 
Buntings ;  even  the  Larkes  and  the  Sparrowes  come  in 
for  the  crumbs.  You  get  into  a  solidarity  there." 

Mr.  Clymer  emunerated  the  list  unctuously.  It  was 
something  to  know  the  genus  well  enough  to  run  over 
the  nomenclature  of  all  the  species  at  an  instant's  warn 
ing.  He  laughed  as  he  ended  with  the  Larkes  and  the 
Sparrowes  and  the  crumbs. 

"  Why  is  it  always  somebody  that  was  ?  "  asked  Es 
tabel.  "Isn't  there  anybody  that  is?" 

"Plenty,  little  girl,  plenty —  that  will  be  the  was-es 


88  SQUARE  PEGS. 

by  and  by.  Only  we  have  to  take  the  world  as  it  's 
made,  so  far,  and  hold  on  to  what  's  fast.  It  's  the 
was-es  that  count.  The  is  isn't  finished;  it  's  only  in 
the  process;  results  aren't  established." 

"I  think  I  'd  set  my  whole  mind  and  strength,  then, 
to  establishing  results,  and  helping  other  folks  establish 
theirs.  I  guess  that  's  what  has  made  the  was-es  count, 
after  all." 

Mr.  Clymer  laughed.      He  delighted  in  shrewdness. 

"I  guess  you  '11  do,  little  girl,  one  way  or  another," 
he  said.  "However,"  he  resumed  to  his  wife,  "there's 
no  particular  objection  to  these  Goodwins.  They  're 
not  exactly  tiptop,  perhaps ;  but  they  're  in  the  way  to 
it.  Captain  Goodwin  is  one  of  the  plain,  solid,  well- 
ballasted  sort,  that  's  a  good  deal  respected.  And  now 
I  think  of  it,  his  wife  was  a  daughter  of  old  Weaver 
Bird.  Estabel  isn't  so  far  out,  after  all.  If  you  want 
to  get  to  the  dome  of  the  State  House,  you  '11  have  to 
go  up  the  stairs. " 

Sara  Sullivant  put  the  same  point  with  a  difference, 
when  Estabel  confided  to  her,  in  her  delight,  that  the 
Goodwins  were  coming. 

"I  know  the  Goodwins,"  she  said.  "They're  nice 
folks.  I  had  a  cousin  lived  with  them  till  she  was 
married.  If  they  ain't  first  pick,  they  're  the  go- 
with-'ems;  they  always  keep  good  company.  And 
the  way  to  come  to  lead  the  choir  is  to  begin  by  singing 
in  the  chorus."  Sara  Sullivant  had  been  to  singing 
school,  and  had  "sat  in  the  seats,"  down  in  Brierville, 
and  she  knew.  Brierville  is  an  epitome,  also. 

Estabel  Charlock  was  not  a  crushed,  annihilated  crea 
ture,  by  any  means.  The  crushers  and  annihilators  are 
not  the  rule,  whatever  a  Corinna  Chilstone  here  or  there 
may  seem  to  demonstrate.  But  the  Corinna  Chilstones 
have  a  power  in  their  own  little  conclaves.  Corinna 
Chilstone  had  a  good  deal  of  schoolgirl  and  embryo 
social  power  just  here  in  Mount  Street.  Her  mother 


SOCIAL  ICEBERGS.  89 

was  a  fashionable  woman ;  the  daughters  of  half  a  dozen 
other  fashionable  families  were  her  mates  in  the  home 
neighborhood  and  at  Mr.  Satterwood's.  They  ran  down 
their  house  steps,  greeting,  waiting  for,  and  overtaking 
each  other,  of  a  morning ;  they  returned  from  school 
in  a  merry  little  squad,  innocent  enough  '  for  the  most 
part,  as  individuals,  but  making  up,  as  a  whole,  to 
Estabel's  experience,  an  unkindly  force  of  repulsion  and 
exclusion. 

The  girls  she  knew  best  at  school  did  not  live  in 
Mount  Street ;  the  girls  she  knew  in  Mount  Street  did 
not  go  to  Mr.  Satterwood's,  or  belong  to  the  Mount 
Street  squad.  She  felt  no  liberty  to  join  these  girls; 
to  call  out  their  names  and  bid  them  stop  for  her;  to 
skip  alongside,  or  backward,  down  the  sidewalk,  in 
their  charmed  company ;  to  be  bright  with  laugh  and 
speech  and  ready  fun  —  as  she  knew  it  was  in  her  to  be ; 
above  all,  to  share  the  freemasonry  of  an  every-day, 
all-the-time  understanding  of  their  little  world  and  its 
doings.  This  would  have  seemed  to  her  really  beau 
tiful. 

To  have  individual  friendships  was  nice ;  she  was 
fond  of  the  Goodwins,  Kitty  and  Helen ;  of  the  Lew 
ises,  Margaret,  Grace,  and  Fanny.  The  Lewises'  was 
the  one  house  in  the  whole  street  where  she  went  in  and 
out,  and  upstairs,  among  the  young  people,  with  an 
open,  easy  welcome.  Mr.  Lewis  was  a  quiet,  hard 
working  gentleman  on  a  moderate  bank  salary ;  in  his 
family  there  was  plenty  of  home  pleasantness,  but  no 
thing  gay,  nothing  that  commanded  outside  considera 
tion  or  large  opportunity.  They  lived  very  much  within 
themselves,  yet  such  outreach  as  they  had  was  of  the 
best ;  so  it  was  that  Estabel  was  permitted  the  intimacy. 

Everything  was  sporadic  with  Estabel.  Here  and 
there,  now  and  then,  she  had  her  happy  occasions  of  tea 
drinkings,  of  juvenile  parties,  of  drives  and  visits  with 
her  aunt,  above  all,  of  public  entertainments.  But  she 


90  SQUARE  PEGS. 

felt  in  all  semi-detached.  She  saw  others  who  seemed  to 
live  in  a  commonwealth  of  easy  and  continual  privilege ; 
and  she  wanted  to  be,  not  individual,  hut  of  a  company. 
There  were  people  enough,  why  not  ?  Why  should  she 
only  join  on  here  and  there,  uncertainly?  She  would 
like  to  train  with  a  troop,  to  he  in  step  and  harmony. 
She  had  always  longed  for  it,  in  her  far  isolations  in 
Stillwick. 

Of  course,  there  had  been  girls  in  Stillwick,  but  she 
had  never  found  any  within  her  immediate  reach  that 
she  could  fully  consort  with;  she  was  out  of  the  squad 
there,  on  the  other  side.  In  her  little  girlhood  she 
had  not  cared  for  corncob  dollies  and  broken-china  baby 
houses  along  back  fence  rails ;  nor  for  riotous  games  of 
"  tag "  and  "  follow  the  leader, "  in  and  out  of  door- 
yards  and  through  the  barns  and  milking-pens.  She 
could  construct  children  of  her  own  fancy,  and  lovely 
houses  for  them  to  live  in,  with  furnishings  unlimited 
to  the  positive  signs  of  fragmentary  crockery ;  it  was 
easier  to  make  believe  the  whole  than  to  be  handicapped 
with  insufficient,  contradictory  realities. 

She  did  love  the  sweet-smelling  haymows ;  she  had 
a  sympathy  for  the  great  cows  with  their  mysteriously 
quiet  eyes  that  had  all  day  long  been  gazing  abroad  over 
wide  pastures,  where  they  knew  also  every  little  clover 
head  and  grass  blade  and  clump  of  weeds  that  they  came 
to  in  their  diligent,  careful  cropping,  and  all  the  shady 
pools  where  they  drank  the  plentiful  cool  water,  and 
the  soft  hollows  under  branching  trees  where  they  laid 
themselves  down  in  their  red  and  tawny  heaps  to  munch 
and  meditate.  She  understood  cow  life;  here  again 
was  the  pleasure  of  the  friendly  herd.  She  liked  the 
searching  out  of  secret  nests  where  the  hens  worked 
their  daily  miracle,  and  hoarded  their  white  treasures ; 
often  the  near  exchange  of  glances,  eye  to  eye,  with 
a  demure,  brave  feathered  creature  who  would  keep  her 
own  place,  let  whom  might  come  by,  only  lifting  her 


SOCIAL  ICEBERGS.  91 

round  head  with  its  tremulous  red  comb  a  little  higher 
with  a  watchful  self-assertion  which  Estabel  would  never 
attack  nor  dispute.  She  did  love  daring  games  of 
flights  from  mow  to  mow,  or  from  the  high-piled  masses 
under  the  rough-timbered  roof  down  into  the  low  bay 
just  full  enough  to  receive  the  fall  into  an  elastic  safety. 
She  had  more  than  once  come  in  with  hay  straws  cling 
ing  to  her  dress  and  hair,  —  the  latter  in  a  free  tumble, 
its  ribbon  lost,  —  to  confront  Cousin  Lucy  Henslee  — 
and  once,  Harry  with  her  —  in  an  unexpected  visit. 
And  how  could  they  perceive  the  nice  distinctions  be 
tween  one  sort  of  romp  and  another  which  were  so  pal 
pable  to  her  imaginative  intuitions  ? 

It  was  not  strange  that  Harry  Henslee,  here  in  the 
city,  seeing  Estabel,  as  he  had  expected,  making  small 
evidence  of  "getting  on  "  with  what  from  his  point  of 
view  was  the  "nice  set,"  should  put  down  the  fact  to 
natural  consequence  and  suppose  that  the  Stillwick 
roughness  and  crudity  yet  adhered,  somewhere,  to  hin 
der. 

He  was  very  loyal.  He  often  came  to  Mount  Street 
of  an  evening ;  he  sent  flowers  when  he  knew  she  was 
going  to  a  party;  he  danced  with  her  when  he  met  her, 
but  this  was  only  now  and  then.  He  went  to  a  good 
many  dances  where  she  was  not  invited.  There  was 
one  which  her  Aunt  Clymer  permitted  —  nay,  urged 
Estabel,  against  the  girl's  instinctive  disinclination  — 
to  give,  where  was  but  a  faint  sprinkling  of  the  young 
aristocracy  who  had  been  asked,  but  who  had  other  en 
gagements,  indispositions,  —  very  literally  veracious,  — 
or  who  said  with  an  equal  covert  veracity  that  it  was 
"out  of  their  power  to  accept." 

These  things  made  Harry  indignant  for  her  in  two 
directions,  against  those  who  would  not  come  and  against 
those  who  had  been  in  such  impolitic  haste  to  invite. 
But  he  could  not  help  the  resultant  impression,  accord 
ing  to  his  own  anticipation,  that  Estabel  was  out  of  her 


92  SQUARE  PEGS. 

own  sphere  in  Topthorpe,  and  would  not  easily  slip  into 
another.  As  he  had  said  to  his  Aunt  Lucy,  he  could 
not,  single  handed,  do  much  about  it ;  if  he  had  had 
mother  or  sister  it  would  have  heen  different. 

There  was  one  way  in  which  a  man,  single  handed, 
could  give  that  single  hand  to  a  woman  and  lift  her  up, 
triumphant,  to  his  side.  But  he  and  Estabel  were  only 
boy  and  girl.  Even  in  his  boyhood  of  eighteen  years, 
this  way,  or  an  abstract  idea  of  it,  did  occur  to  Harry 
Henslee  as  such  things  will  sometimes  suggest  them 
selves  to  either  sex  at  eighteen.  The  practical  possibil 
ity  was  in  a  safe  distance,  as  yet,  certainly ;  but  it  crossed 
his  thought  with  a  kind  of  chivalrous  exultation,  how 
easily  some  fellow  might  do  it  in  such  a  case,  and  what 
fun  it  would  be  to  see  people's  faces. 

And  yet  Harry  Henslee  did  love  prettiness  and  styl 
ishness  and  ready-made  adaptation  to  the  politest  life. 
Estabel 's  very  honesty  and  transparency  were  against 
her  in  this  last  matter;  and  as  to  the  others,  whose  de 
velopment  might  of  course  be  within  the  possibilities 
that  include  all  things,  why,  it  would  take  time  to  show. 

"And  Topthorpe  is  a  difficult  place  to  develop  in," 
the  young  fellow  remarked  to  himself  acutely.  "To  be 
of  Topthorpe  you  must  be  born  Topthorpe.  '  Nascitur ; 
non  fit. '  " 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LATITUDES:  AND  BURNT  ALMONDS. 

NEVERTHELESS,  Estabel  was  developing.  Even  in 
the  outside  things  about  which  she  had  been  practically 
so  negligent,  she  was,  however  intermittently  backslid 
ing,  catching  new  influence  and  making  gain. 

Not  all  at  once  could  all  her  faulty  little  habits  fall 
away  from  her.  Not  always  did  even  her  sense  of 
"whatsoever  things  are  lovely"  prevent  her  heedlessness 
of  the  apparent  when  she  was  most  eager  for  the  essen 
tial.  Not  seldom  she  deserved  criticism,  and  she  was 
very  sure  never  to  escape  it. 

A  difficult  lesson  would  take  up  her  whole  morning 
thought  and  time  when  she  was  supposed  to  be  making 
her  school  toilet ;  and  then,  with  ten  minutes  to  reach 
her  place  and  report  to  call,  on  would  go  cloak  and 
bonnet,  and  off  she  would  hurry,  forgetting  that  she  had 
pulled  out  the  soiled  ruffles  from  neck  and  wristband  of 
her  gown  and  had  failed  to  replace  them ;  or  that  a 
spot  or  tear  had  for  two  days  already  disfigured  it  con 
spicuously  ;  or  that  her  hair  ribbon  had  been  tied  too 
many  times  without  a  smoothing.  Her  problem  in 
geometry  was  worked  out  in  faultless  drawing  or  her 
lesson  in  physics  conquered ;  and  a  small  triangular  flap 
in  her  skirt,  or  an  oleaginous  trace  needing  a  chemical 
absorbent  or  detergent,  did  not  matter  to  her  in  com 
parison.  But  they  mattered  in  the  eyes  of  the  spick 
and  span  damsels  who  might  stand  far  below  her  in  the 
class,  and  they  were  recorded  against  her,  keeping  her 
ranked  down  among  the  "common." 


94  SQUARE  PEGS. 

How  it  would  have  been  as  to  time  and  permanent 
result  was  fortunately  not  left  to  her  own  unaided  ex 
perience. 

Sara  Sullivant  took  her  generously  in  hand,  and  Sara 
Sullivant  was  an  efficient  auxiliary.  She  discerned 
what  was  wanted ;  she  watched  and  supplied  without 
demonstration,  but  with  an  untiring  faithfulness.  By 
and  by  there  were  no  more  placket  slips  to  be  pinned 
up,  no  more  rips  in  stockings,  no  more  frays  or  hitches 
or  grease  spots;  no  touch  of  yesterday's  mud  on  shoes 
or  hems ;  a  fresh  pocket  handkerchief  replaced  the 
crumpled  wad  that  had  very  likely  served  to  rub  a  slate ; 
the  pigtail  and  the  wisped  or  missing  ribbon  became 
things  of  the  past.  Sara  offered  to  "do  her  hair;  " 
and  the  thick,  soft  locks  were  rolled  back  prettily  from 
the  temples,  and  the  smooth  braids  fastened  low  behind 
with  a  silver  pin. 

Other  matters  were  improved  also.  The  solecism  of 
the  old  best  dress  for  school  was  abolished.  Two  dark 
merinos,  a  garnet  color  and  a  mazarin  blue,  had  been 
provided  for  her  winter  wear;  and  although  the  coveted 
supply  of  linen  collars  and  cuffs  had  not  been  added,  — 
those  small  wares  not  being  at  that  time  procurable  by 
the  dozen  at  every  shop,  sewing  machines  being  but  in 
the  near  future  of  invention,  and  Mrs.  Clymer  not  fond 
of  plain  needlework,  —  the  substitute  of  cambric  edgings 
that  stood  up  about  her  really  pretty  throat  and  peeped 
from  her  sleeves  around  her  wrists  was  not  by  any  means 
amiss ;  and  Sara  took  punctual  care  that  they  were  kept 
crisp  and  fresh.  If  things  had  but  begun  so,  half  the 
battle  might  have  been  won  or  spared.  Mrs.  Clymer *s 
proposition  was  correct ;  it  was  her  working  out  that  had 
been  mistaken ;  first  impressions  go  for  a  good  deal  and 
last  for  a  long  time. 

In  school  itself,  as  a  pupil.  Estabel  was  happy.  Les 
sons  were  a  delight  to  her.  She  had  a  pleasure  in 
maps  and  dictionaries  akin  to  that  of  searching  in  woods 


LATITUDES:  AND  BURNT  ALMONDS.       95 

and  meadows  for  their  hidden  growths  and  blossoms. 
She  put  her  imagination  into  all  places ;  she  held  the 
round  world  in  her  thought  and  rejoiced  in  perfecting 
her  mental  model  of  it  to  clear  and  precise  detail.  She 
explored  eagerly  the  roots  and  relations  of  language. 
To  construe  a  fine,  difficult  passage  and  get  the  living 
intent  of  it  was  like  writing  a  poem  herself.  And  in 
"composition,"  the  ordinary  schoolgirl's  bugbear,  she 
was  simply  "out  on  a  picnic."  Numbers  were  sublime 
to  her.  Their  very  difficulties  were  inspiring  because 
they  were  the  difficulties  of  truth.  To  do  a  sum  one 
must  be  sincerely  exact.  There  could  be  no  evasion,  no 
slipping  over  obstinate  figures  and  proportions ;  no*  arriv 
ing  at  results  other  than  those  involved  in  absolutely 
honest  process.  In  all  the  complications  of  mathemat 
ical  science,  the  science  upon  which  worlds  are  built  and 
moved,  there  was  no  lie.  It  seemed  to  Estabel  like  a 
religion. 

"Studying  together  "  in  pairs  for  the  hour  or  two 
after  recess  was  an  indulgence  allowed  upon  due  request 
and  with  due  discretion.  This  pairing  off  was  largely 
a  matter  of  friendships,  an  opportunity  for  speech;  but 
the  real  help  that  Estabel  could  give  secured  to  her 
some  companionships  which  might  not  otherwise  have 
been  so  readily  accorded.  When  Estabel  felt  this  she 
did  not  refuse,  but  she  made  the  association  a  purely 
business  partnership.  In  her  own  way  she  was  the 
proudest  girl  in  school. 

"  Sit  with  me  to-day, "  said  Corinna  Chilstone  to  Pen 
Westington.  "What  do  you  want  to  go  there  for?  " 

"There  "  was  the  corner  of  the  table  next  which  was 
Estabel' s  seat,  and  Penelope  was  moving  toward  it  as 
she  turned  back  from  the  little  group  of  petitioners 
around  Mr.  Satterwood's  desk.  It  was  observable  that 
Mr.  Satterwood  never  hesitated  to  give  permission  when 
the  question  was  "May  I  study  with  Miss  Charlock?" 
There  was  sure  to  be  genuine,  quiet  study  and  no  cover 


96  SQUAKE  PEGS. 

for  small  chatter ;  and  whoever  studied  with  Miss  Char 
lock  was  also  sure  to  make  an  appreciable  step  forward 
in  her  work. 

Penelope  drew  her  arm  away  a  little  impatiently  from 
Corinna's  imperious  touch.  "She  always  knows  which 
end  of  the  string  to  pull  to  ravel  out  the  sentences. 
And  besides,"  the  girl  added  bravely,  "I  like  her." 

When  Penelope  Westington  walked  home  one  day  in 
the  recess  with  Estabel,  preliminary  to  their  now  regular 
stance  over  their  Virgil,  Mrs.  Clymer  was  ter  quaterque 
beata. 

She  bade  Estabel,  who  had  run  upstairs  with  the 
announcement  and  to  say  she  had  come  home  for  lunch 
eon,  take  her  friend  into  the  dining-room  and  ring  for 
Archibald.  Which  being  done,  Archibald  had  swiftly 
appeared,  and  being  asked  for  something  to  eat,  had 
spread  a  fine  small  damask  cloth  at  one  end  of  the  table 
and  proceeded  to  place  thereon,  as  matter  of  course,  the 
daintiest  of  china  and  crystal  for  the  slightly  required 
service;  after  that  a  couple  of  delicious  little  chicken 
patties,  with  rolls  and  butter;  had  filled  their  glasses 
with  water  and  set  on  from  the  sideboard  a  basket  of 
white  grapes  and  rosy  lady  apples ;  then  putting  the 
silver  table  bell  at  Estabel' s  right  hand,  had  vanished 
into  his  pantry. 

It  was  not  necessary  for  the  two  girls'  ten  minutes, 
and  the  bite  in  hand  expected,  but  it  was  very  elegantly 
done,  and  Estabel  presided  with  a  thrill  of  pleasure  at 
the  aesthetic  and  impressional  effect.  How  could  she 
help  her  little  sense  of  exultation  that  one  of  these 
school  somebodies  should  have  a  glimpse  of  how  one  of 
the  nobodies-in-particular  —  the  "  Common  Things  " 
lived  at  home  ? 

She  understood  Archibald's  ready  kindness  also.  Ac 
cording  to  his  lights,  and  with  the  tact  of  his  kind,  he 
had  magnified  his  opportunity.  He  had  done  it  just  as 
once  he  had  improvised  what  he  thought  a  similar  suit- 


LATITUDES:   AND   BURNT  ALMONDS.         97 

ableness  of  importance  for  her.  Sent  to  escort  her  home 
one  evening  from  a  little  party,  he  had  given  the  word 
at  the  door,  "Miss  Charlock's  carriage,"  when  there 
was  no  carriage  for  her  in  all  the  waiting  line. 

"This  way,  miss,"  he  had  deferentially  signified 
when  she  had  appeared ;  and  then,  preceding  her  by  a 
few  paces  only,  had  fallen  slightly  behind  again,  and 
with  no  further  word  of  explanation  had  so  walked  the 
few  squares  around  to  Mount  Street  and  Number  84. 
Servants  understand  the  giving  of  a  color,  and  to  their 
apprehension  the  variance  of  a  shade  is  of  a  cardinal 
consequence. 

If  Mrs.  Westington  had  understood  all  that  lay  be 
hind  in  a  child's  heart  of  real  human  longing  that 
found  no  better  way  under  present  conditions  of  com 
forting  itself,  than  with  the  loyal  contrivance  and  inno 
cent  acceptance  of  such  small  parade,  she  might  not 
perhaps,  when  Penelope  told  her  of  the  fine  little  enter 
tainment,  have  said  so  guardedly  but  decidedly:  "It 
was  not  a  proper  luncheon  for  you,  my  dear;  don't  go 
so  far  from  school  again  in  recess ;  you  must  have  hur 
ried  in  eating  and  afterward  to  get  back ;  "  or  have 
repeated  the  incident  to  her  sister,  with  the  remark, 
"Such  vulgar  overdoing!  "  Very  likely  she  had  little 
notion  of  the  overdoing  of  her  own  careful  principles  of 
natural  selection  by  certain  of  her  daughter's  approved 
companions,  which  this  little  ten  minutes  of  home  im 
portance  had  to  make  up  for  to  Estabel  Charlock ;  of 
the  dismalness  she  and  others  of  the  unadjusted  had 
had  to  suffer  in  the  half  hours  of  recess,  when  Corinna 
Chilstone  and  her  retainers  climbed  to  their  typical 
"  impregnable  castle  "  in  the  open  lots  where  the  gravel 
excavation  stopped,  leaving  a  small  isolated  green  pro 
jection  outside  a  garden  still  fenced  in,  and  there  main 
tained  their  supreme  elevation  against  all  ordinary 
comers ;  these  last  reduced  to  choose  between  a  dull 
street  walk  or  a  game  of  restricted  play  in  the  bricked 


98  SQUARE  PEGS. 

house  yard.  Unless,  indeed,  they  might  bethink  them 
selves  of  the  beautiful  green  ways  under  the  grand  old 
elms  of  the  Long  Mall,  easily  near,  that  were  open  to 
everybody.  But  that  unconditionalness  was  what  spoiled 
allowance ;  it  was  not  prerogative.  Like  the  inherit 
ance  of  all  things,  it  was  only  for  the  meek.  It  was 
already  getting  to  be  so  "common  "  to  go  there! 

It  is  not  altogether  easy  for  sensible,  contented 
grown  people  to  comprehend  the  sharp  trials  of  such 
petty,  childish  differencing  of  place  and  choice,  —  as  if 
one  poor  little  spot,  appropriated  by  a  few,  could  leave 
no  other  to  be  appropriated;  could  become  more  keenly 
desirable  than  any  other  in  the  wide  city,  or  the  wide 
earth,  for  the  time  being.  If  it  were  deserted  by  the 
few  the  many  would  not  care  to  succeed  to  that  from 
which  the  charm  of  privilege  had  gone ;  the  charm  would 
have  been  transferred  elsewhere ;  a  new  spot  would  have 
been  made  inaccessible ;  even  a  child  would  find  out 
that  both  privilege  and  denial  had  been  purely  factitious 
things.  It  is  not  easy  for  real  growth  to  comprehend 
the  same  small  struggles  and  heartburnings  of  a  later 
life,  or  to  see  that  they  are  the  same.  Yet  they  go 
on;  there  will  always  remain  such  a  large  proportion  of 
ungrown-up  persons  in  this  little  kindergarten  of  hu 
manity  ! 

Estabel  was  by  no  means  without  recourse  in  the 
daily  little  tacit  or  open  encounters  of  her  girl  world. 
Ordinarily  proud  and  self-contained,  she  could  now  and 
then  meet  the  blunt  weapons  of  a  crass  savagery  with 
a  keen,  fine  blade  of  sarcasm,  flashed  forth  when  least 
expected,  by  herself  or  any  one ;  or  she  would  escape, 
with  some  sudden  turn  of  grace  and  spirit,  an  intended 
blow. 

One  day  Mr.  Satterwood  gave  his  scholars  an  exercise 
in  geography,  testing  their  general  and  comparative 
knowledge  as  to  influences  and  conditions  of  varying 
latitudes.  It  was  a  questioning  upon  lines  and  bounda- 


LATITUDES:   AND  BURNT  ALMONDS.         99 

ries,  climatic  effects,  differing  densities  of  population, 
characteristics  of  inhabitants,  products,  industries,  lim 
its  of  vegetations,  temperatures,  — •  all  that  would  indi 
cate  a  certain  comprehensive  and  deductive  intelligence 
of  facts  and  their  relations  to  life  and  its  possibilities 
upon  our  globe. 

Estabel  delighted  in  this  geographic  generalization ;  it 
was  as  a  holding  of  the  whole  earth  in  a  grasp ;  an  under 
standing  of  its  vital  construction  and  administrative 
order.  Her  answers  were  statistically  correct,  luminous 
with  perception.  Mr.  Satterwood's  face  beamed  when 
ever  the  turn  came  to  her. 

Therefore,  he  and  the  whole  class  were  startled  into 
blank  surprise  when,  after  traveling  all  the  way  up  from 
the  equator  in  a  succession  of  interesting  data  and  dis 
quisitions,  the  last  question  of  all  came  to  Estabel. 

"At  what  degree  of  latitude  do  we  find  impassable 
ice,  and  the  end  of  practical  advance  or  occupation  ?  " 

A  gleam  of  sudden  mischief  shot  across  Estabel' s 
face. 

"At  a  little  above  forty,"  she  said  recklessly. 

"Miss  Charlock!  " 

"That 's  as  far  north  as  I  've  tried  it,  Mr.  Satter- 
wood." 

The  girls  for  the  most  part  simply  stared.  Mr. 
Satterwood's  face  betrayed  a  relaxation  of  amusement, 
which  he  held  in  check.  Estabel  had  again  a  "convert 
ible  3  "  as  result  of  her  brilliant  recitation. 

After  a  while  the  joke  crept  round. 

"So  silly!  "  said  the  girls  who  could  not  have  been 
bright. 

"  So  rude !  "  said  some  whose  politenesses  were  ice 
bound. 

It  did  her  no  good.  Electric  coruscations  thaw  no 
thing.  She  remained  frozen  out.  What  was  worse, 
she  was,  like  other  Arctic  explorers,  frozen  in;  she 
could  not  set  sail  and  get  away. 


100  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Dancing  school  was  a  severer  ordeal  than  day  school. 
The  representative  set  here  was  the  exclusive  one ;  there 
was  little  refuge  for  the  isolated. 

There  were  no  regular  seats ;  there  were,  conse 
quently,  seats  of  conventional  prescription ;  odd  ones 
were  more  easily  kept  odd  and  put  aside.  There  was 
no  silent  rule,  no  constant  occupation ;  there  was,  there 
fore,  social  choice  and  congregation  of  affinity.  The 
good  times  were  in  certain  denned  yet  unpremeditated 
good  places  —  sometimes  here,  sometimes  there,  hut  al 
ways  by  some  indisputable  determination  and  consent. 

The  boys,  gathered  more  heterogeneously  at  the  other 
side  of  the  hall,  perceived  readily  enough  how  the 
"  gentler  sex  "  resolved  itself  into  nucleus  and  nebula, 
and  which  way  the  successful  rush  would  tend  when 
partners  were  called.  It  would  require  some  brave  gen 
erosity  to  walk  down  the  comet-like  trail  of  girls  along 
the  line  to  its  thin  end  and  deliberately  lead  out  one  of 
the  left-overs. 

Signer  Scalchi  had  often  to  take  a  reluctant  youth  by 
the  elbow  and  march  him  up  to  a  polite  ''introduction." 

Perhaps  the  effrontery  of  girls  or  women  in  asserting 
demarcation  is  only  equaled  by  the  timidity  of  men 
and  boys  in  crossing  their  invisible  barriers. 

In  the  leisure  time  between  the  classes  and  the  dances 
there  was  talk,  subdued  frolic,  reading  of  story  books 
by  the  more  quiet  or  the  neglected,  and  candy  munch 
ing,  the  latter  an  established  and  important  feature  of 
the  occasion.  Offerings  of  sweetmeats  from  youthful 
admirers  to  their  little  belles  were  as  much  in  order, 
and  held  as  delicate,  as  those  of  flowers,  while  greatly 
more  substantial  in  delight.  The  girls  who  had  more 
pocket  money  than  adoration  usually  stopped  on  their 
way  from  home  at  Leduc's  and  provided  themselves. 
Leduc's  burnt  almonds  and  chocolate  drops  were  irre 
sistible.  Estabel  could  always  command  a  supply  of 
these,  and  a  story  book  made  her  happy  anywhere. 


LATITUDES:   AND   BURNT   ALMONDS.       101 

Coming  back  from  her  class  one  afternoon,  she  noticed 
as  she  approached  her  place  that  one  of  the  Arkleys  had 
taken  up  the  volume  she  had  left  there,  and  was  intently 
reading  it.  It  was  Miss  Leslie's  "Althea  Vernon." 

As  Estabel  seated  herself  the  other  girl  looked  up. 
"  Oh,  is  it  yours  ?  "  she  said,  and  laid  the  book  down 
without  thanks  or  apology. 

Estabel  drew  a  paper  parcel  from  her  pocket.  It 
was  a  simple  white  cone,  twisted  at  the  end.  In  those 
days  there  were  no  bonbonnieres.  She  held  it  out,  un 
folding  it  at  the  top.  "Will  you  have  some  almonds?  " 
she  said.  She  was  too  innately  polite  —  that  is,  kind 
—  to  take  back  even  her  own  book  without  proffering 
some  little  ready  civility. 

But  Hepsie  Arkley  caught  at  the  instant  an  admon 
ishing  glance  from  her  sister,  who  sat  enthroned  in  the 
very  angle  of  the  corner  of  honor  for  the  day,  from 
which  radiated  the  little  groups  of  privilege.  She  shook 
her  head  and  started  up.  Her  elbow  struck  the  out 
stretched  hand  of  Estabel,  the  paper  cone  was  jostled 
from  her  hold,  and  the  sweet  confections  rolled  rattling 
upon  the  floor. 

Signor  Scalchi  had  a  headache,  perhaps,  or  his  new 
pumps  hurt  him;  it  was  one  of  his  "fiddlebow  days," 
when  that  ensign  was  most  imperative  with  rap  and 
peremptory  gesture.  He  turned  frowningly  toward  the 
sound  and  started  with  his  firm-poised  tread  straight 
for  the  spot. 

Estabel  had  just  picked  up  the  last  little  chocolates. 

"  Mees  Sharloke !  "  the  dancing  master  accosted  her 
with  terrible  accent  and  emphasis,  and  with  uplifted 
bow,  "you  vill  please  go  into  de  dressing  groom  to  eat 
up  your  leetle  re-fection.  Dees  hall  ees  not  von  restau 
rant  !  " 

A  titter  went  round  the  benches. 

Estabel  stood  up,  proud  and  flaming.  A  window 
was  open  close  by,  for  the  day  was  mild  and  the  hall 


102  SQUARE  PEGS. 

had  been  overheated.  With  one  scornful  sidewise  toss, 
she  sent  the  paper  of  confectionery  through  into  the 
street ;  then  she  swept  such  a  beautiful  curtsey  that 
Signer  Scalchi  smiled,  in  spite  of  himself,  a  prof essional 
approbation.  "My  little  refection  is  finished,  signer," 
she  said.  If  the  first  syllable  of  "finished"  had  a 
slight  touch  of  the  signer's  own  voweling  it  may  have 
been  an  involuntary  echo. 

With  a  bow,  half  sarcastic,  half  friendly,  the  irate 
gentleman  left  her,  and  returned  to  his  instruction. 
From  the  class  of  boys  under  tuition,  and  broken  in 
stantly  from  line  at  the  signer's  diversion,  a  voice  was 
heard,  "She  's  a  spunky  little  cuss,  anyhow!  " 

"  Yong  zhenteelmen,  your  places !  "  thundered  the 
master,  and  the  master's  bow  fell  sharply  and  reiteratedly 
upon  the  back  of  his  violin.  "Master  Sheelstone,  you 
zhoost  like  von  eel !  " 

Again,  it  did  no  good.  Spirit,  "spunk,"  cleverness, 
only  marked  her  as  exceptional ;  she  had  no  business  to 
be  brilliant  or  conspicuous ;  no  business  with  repartee, 
or  any  sort  of  getting  the  better;  it  was  only  fresh  and 
flagrant  casus  belli  and  by  no  manner  of  means  a  claim 
to  concession  or  favor.  Such  things  "would  never  do 
in  Topthorpe." 

Estabel  was  just  and  logical  by  nature.  She  could 
not  understand  it.  Sometimes,  turning  the  whole 
strange  puzzle  over  in  her  mind,  she  faced  it  in  direct, 
grave  fashion,  and  demanded  of  it  what  right,  what 
reason,  it  had  to  be.  Least  of  all  could  she  understand 
why  older  people,  who  had  everything  in  their  own 
hands  for  themselves,  should  care  or  should  submit. 

What  was  this  intangible  "place  in  society?"  Why 
did  n't  they  just  go  on  —  as  somebody  must  have  gone 
on  long  ago  —  and  make  their  own  place  and  live  their 
own  good  and  pleasant  life  in  the  making?  You  see 
she  had  the  misfortune  to  be  where  the  older  restless 
ness  and  discontent  were  evident  day  by  day. 


LATITUDES  :   AND   BURNT   ALMONDS.       103 

"I  think,  Aunt  Vera, "  she  said  one  afternoon,  not 
long  after  these  later  episodes,  "that  you  have  as  beau 
tiful  a  house  and  as  beautiful  tilings  in  it  as  there  can 
be  in  all  Topthorpe.  Don't  you?  " 

"Of  course.  Your  uncle  has  spared  no  expense. 
"Why  shouldn't  it  be  as  beautiful  as  anybody's?  " 

"Why  don't  you  just  live  in  it,  then,  and  have  the 
good  of  it  ?  Why  do  you  care  about  going  to  Mrs. 
Seveare's?  " 

There  had  been  a  not  unusual  sort  of  discussion  that 
morning  at  the  breakfast  table  between  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Clynier  apropos  to  a  certain  not  forthcoming  invitation. 

"I  don't  care  in  the  least  about  going,  child.  You 
don't  understand.  I  only  think  I  might  have  expected 
to  be  invited.  I  have  asked  her  here." 

"But  she  didn't  come." 

"That  makes  no  difference.  Perhaps  she  could  n't. 
People  who  have  a  great  many  engagements  can't  al 
ways  accept.  But  they  might  return  an  obligation." 

"Maybe  they  have  too  many  to  return,  all  at  once. 
But  it  seems  to  me  it  's  only  obligation,  after  all.  You 
don't  care  about  going,  and  she  doesn't  care  about  com 
ing.  I  don't  see  what  it  's  all  good  for.  If  I  had 
such  a  great,  elegant  house,  and  could  do  as  I  liked, 
I  'd  have  such  a  lovely  way  of  my  own  in  it  that  I 
never  need  stop  to  think  about  other  people's  ways  or 
houses  —  that  I  didn't  have  anything  to  do  with,  and 
wasn't  really  interested  in." 

"You  'd  be  an  extremely  wise,  woman,  and  you  'd 
turn  the  world  right  over  with  your  little  finger,  no 
doubt." 

"Well,  anybody's  little  finger  can  do  it  —  to  their 
own  latitude  and  longitude  —  if  they  like.  It 's  hung 
on  an  axis, "  said  Estabel  with  more  cleverness  of  illus 
tration  than  exactness  in  grammar. 

At  that  moment  Dr.  Ulick  North  walked  in. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DOCTOR    ULICK    NORTH. 

HOWEVER  grand  and  sweet  in  its  original  Greek  or 
in  the  Latinized  form  in  which  it  comes  to  us,  "  Ulysses  " 
is  not  a  pretty  name  in  Anglo-Saxon  ears.  It  seems 
hardly  a  Christian  name  at  all ;  yet  it  was  young  Dr. 
North's,  descended  to  him  from  a  maternal  grandfather. 
He  had  felt  the  heirloom  an  infliction.  Not  yet  had 
the  Homeric  title  hecome  historic  in  our  own  land ;  our 
national  Ulysses  was  yet  in  his  own  rising  manhood,  an 
unknown  contemporary  of  this  other  of  our  simple  story. 
Yet  there  was  possible  augury  in  the  christening  of 
both.  For  Odysseus  stands,  according  to  the  lexicons, 
for  "The  Angry;"  the  readily  roused,  we  may  infer, 
to  generous  and  martial  indignation ;  the  quick  to  battle 
for  the  right. 

The  merciful  shortening  by  which  the  archaic  prgeno- 
men  was  familiarly  handled  in  the  instance  under  narra 
tion  became  its  bearer  well,  and  derogates  nothing 
from  heroic  significance.  It  has  a  quick,  alert,  positive 
sound ;  it  even  suggests  in  very  commonplace  dialect  a 
prophecy  of  conquering.  And  if  Ulick  North  was  any 
thing  he  was  quick,  positive,  determined ;  aggressive 
against  whatever  he  found  challenging  a  righteous  con 
tention.  He  was  keen,  too,  as  such  spirits  are,  to  de 
tect  the  thing  so  to  be  opposed.  He  had  the  fault  of 
his  virtue ;  he  was  always  diagnosing  the  mischief  in 
human  life  from  its  every  least  developing  symptom. 
He  was  critical,  cynical ;  unsparing  in  judgment,  though 
just  and  fair  in  circumstance,  and  open  to  new  evidence. 


DOCTOR  ULICK  NORTH.  105 

He  could  throw  himself  over  when  he  received  convic 
tion  of  mistake,  but  it  is  to  be  confessed  that  the  con 
viction  must  be  very  strong.  Mere  misgiving,  question, 
would  not  do ;  it  was  apt  to  be  put  aside  as  a  weak 
doubt,  of  which  there  was  no  real  benefit  to  be  taken. 
He  stood  upon  that  which  was  already  established  in 
his  own  mind  until  the  ground  broke  from  under  him. 
You  perceive,  therefore,  that  it  might  be  quite  possible 
he  should  be  prejudiced.  It  was  pretty  certain  that  he 
would  be  called  so. 

Ulick  North  was  nephew  to  Mr.  Abel  Clymer.  He 
was  twenty-seven  years  old,  beginning  to  get  a  foothold 
in  his  profession,  though  despising  all  personal  effort  or 
social  diplomacy  for  obtaining  practice.  Mr.  Clymer 
had  a  good  opinion  of  Dr.  Ulick,  and  foresaw  success 
for  him,  not  an  inconsiderable  element  in  the  forma 
tion  of  Uncle  Abel's  good  opinion.  He  made  him  wel 
come  to  his  house,  and  Ulick  came.  It  grew  to  be  a 
habit  with  him  to  come  often.  Persons  of  a  scrutiniz 
ing,  analytical  disposition  are  prone  to  follow  certain 
lines  until  they  make  them  grooves.  They  become  in 
terested  in  mere  investigation ;  their  theories  are  slowly 
building;  the  working  of  things,  the  manifestations  of 
motive,  attract  them,  almost  independent  of  personality, 
or  even  of  intrinsic  worthiness.  Such  persons  are  meta 
physically  curious.  Also,  if  they  have  high  standards 
and  abstract  perceptions  of  their  own,  they  find  so  rarely 
that  which  passes  the  ordeal  of  their  critical  tests,  —  so 
little  anywhere  in  which  they  can  rest  with  full  concord 
and  acceptance,  —  that  they  are  fain  to  make  compro 
mise,  and  compensate  themselves  with  the  scientific 
satisfactions  of  experiment ;  with  the  clear  apprehension 
of  the  world  as  it  is,  since  they  cannot  force  the  world 
to  be  as  they  would  have  it.  Such  men  come  inevitably 
to  stand  more  and  more  aloof  from  life.  Unless  some 
great  and  generous  experience  makes  them  one,  before 
they  are  aware,  with  a  supreme  reality  in  it,  they  are  as  in 


106  SQUARE  PEGS. 

the  world  and  not  of  it ;  lookers  on,  indeed,  as  if  standing 
apart  from  the  very  planet  in  space,  and  planting  their 
clever  surveying  instruments  to  take  its  measurement. 

Ulick  North  made  a  study  of  the  household  life  in 
Mount  Street  as  he  knew  it.  He  waited  to  see  what 
would  come  of  it.  It  was  in  its  way  typical.  He  was 
in  no  sense  mean  or  disloyal  in  this  watching  and  weigh 
ing.  His  personal  feeling  was  kindly  enough.  It  was 
simply  "  a  case, "  which  illustrated  to  him  a  whole  class 
of  peculiar  derangements  to  which  certain  forms  of 
human  organization  are  liable. 

There  was  a  degree  of  hardness  in  this  which  was  re 
ferable  to  a  cause.  At  twenty-four  Ulick  North  had 
had  an  experience  which  embitters  many  men,  ruins 
others,  and  leaves  a  few  in  a  lifelong  blank.  With  him, 
it  simply  closed  the  early  vision  and  opened  a  shrewd, 
disillusioned  perception  which  seemed  to  him  a  clearer 
—  the  only  really  clear  —  seeing.  He  had  yet  to  learn 
that  the  finest,  truest  discernment  is  not  of  mere  outline 
and  measure,  but  of  shadow,  tint,  perspective,  and  high, 
sweet,  glorifying  light ;  the  impalpable  things  which 
make  the  whole  showing,  to  a  divine  apprehension ;  as 
we,  from  our  own  best  and  most  beautiful  sympathies, 
must  interpret  it,  or  be  soul  and  color  blind. 

Dr.  Ulick  North  walked  in  upon  the  little  conversa 
tion  between  Estabel  and  Aunt  Vera. 

"Problems?  "  he  asked,  dropping  into  a  seat  and  the 
conversation. 

"Yes.  Latitudes  and  longitudes  —  distances  and 
differences  on  the  earth, "  said  Estabel.  She  wondered 
if  Dr.  North  would  catch  up  what  lay  hidden  behind 
the  half  explanation.  He  was  so  quick,  so  shrewd. 
She  liked  to  try  his  shrewdness. 

"Ah!      First  rectify  your  globe,"  was  his  answer. 

"Estabel  thinks  she  can  turn  the  globe  round  with 
her  finger, "  said  Aunt  Vera. 


DOCTOR   ULICK   NORTH.  107 

"I  said  anybody  could.      It  turns  on  an  axis." 

"To  determine  accurately  certain  important  points 
and  relations  you  must  elevate  your  axis  at  the  indi 
cated  pole, "  said  Dr.  North. 

"To  get  your  own  place  into  the  zenith  —  I  know," 
said  Estabel.  "But  my  class  hasn't  worked  out  those 
problems  yet.  We  're  only  in  the  latitudes  and  longi 
tudes.  And  I  said  you  'd  better  find  out  your  own  and 
stay  in  'em,  particularly  when  everything  's  very  nice 
and  comfortable  there." 

Dr.  North  laughed.  Estabel  was  pleased.  She 
liked  to  make  Dr.  North  laugh.  Usually  she  was  a 
little  afraid  of  him. 

Mrs.  Clymer  interrupted.  The  metaphor  was  grow 
ing  too  difficult  for  her.  She  brought  the  matter  down 
to  a  literal  application. 

"Estabel  thinks  I  might  live  my  own  life,  having 
pleasant  things  enough  to  live  it  with,  and  let  other 
people  alone." 

"A  broad  view  to  take."  The  laugh  was  gone  and 
Dr.  North's  tone  was  ironical. 

Mrs.  Clymer  had  not  intended  an  injustice.  Indeed, 
she  was  not  coriscious  of  any  such  doing  or  causing. 
Estabel  was  too  proud  to  explain  again. 

"I  'm  not  tall  enough  yet,  I  suppose,"  she  said,  "to 
look  over  other  people's  heads.  Maybe  I  shall  grow. 
At  present  I  find  a  good  deal  of  a  crowd  in  the  way, 
and  some  people  walk  on  stilts.  Haud  inexperta  loquor, " 
she  added  with  schoolgirl  pedantry. 

"Oh,  if  you  're  going  to  talk  Latin,  I  give  up,"  said 
Ulick.  And  Estabel  became  mute.  Angry  with  herself, 
she  was  furious  with  Dr.  Ulick. 

"He  needn't  put  a  girl  down  so  —  talking  Latin 
half  the  time  himself, "  she  protested  inwardly.  And 
her  color  mounted  high,  and  her  eyes  shone  with  re 
pressed  indignation. 

Dr.  North  was  exceedingly  amused 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CENSORSHIP. 

'IT  is  a  tiresome  and  a  hackneyed  thing  to  do,  to 
dwell  upon  the  trivialities  of  motive  and  effort  in  a  cer 
tain  subformation  of  social  life.  One  wonders  why  the 
trivialities  themselves  are  not  yet  so  tiresome  and  so 
hackneyed  that  they  should  be  left  off  and  outgrown. 

In  a  sense  they  are  becoming  so;  though  from  the 
beginnings  of  human  society  until  now  —  and  Heaven 
only  knows  how  much  longer  —  the  same  incomplete 
humanity  has  worked,  and  will  work  and  struggle,  to 
ward  its  ends  —  mistaking  waymarks  all  along  for  ends 
—  in  varying  forms  of  the  same  pettiness  and  folly, 
only  more  or  less  disguised  with  an  outer  dignity  and 
a  prescribed  courtesy. 

We  have  to  do  with  a  young  girl's  life.  It  began 
its  first  maturing  under  precisely  these  'circumstances  of 
stimulus,  pressure,  disappointment.  It  was  somehow 
out  of  place  and  alignment,  and  was  under  daily  force 
and  contradiction  of  that  which  it  found  no  way  either  to 
resist  OP  ally  itself  with,  or  to  solve  in  its  continually 
recurring  problems. 

And  a  young  girl's  life  is  no  trivial  nor  hackneyed 
thing,  repeated  as  it  may  be  in  the  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  of  contemporary  and  successive  experiences. 

Many  things  are  less  marked  and  offensive  to-day  than 
they  were  nearly  a  lifetime  ago ;  but  until  the  Kingdom 
comes  there  will  be  tares  and  wheat  together  in  the 
field,  and  only  the  angels  can  truly  distinguish  and 
separate  them.  And  the  social  darnel  is  a  prickly, 
wounding,  and  noxious  weed. 


CENSORSHIP.  109 

I  should  like  to  get  to  the  more  eventful  passages, 
the  deeper  and  more  continuous  interests  of  Estabel's 
personal  history.  But  these  were  waiting  and  depend 
ing.  Our  own  early  life  recurs  to  us  rather  in  impres 
sion,  or  by  small  single  points  of  very  simple,  if  intense, 
experience,  than  as  an  artistic  or  consecutive  story.  In 
our  growing  toward  the  epic  of  our  years  we  receive  the 
elements  which  render  possible  its  development.  We 
must  glance  back  into  our  own  youth,  as  we  are  doing 
now  into  Estabel  Charlock's,  to  understand  that  which 
in  event  and  incident  arrived  later. 

In  the  beginning  of  this  winter  she  passed  her  six 
teenth  birthday.  Indeed,  that  was  the  occasion  upon 
which  the  party  had  been  given  which  had  made  Harry 
Henslee  indignant  for  her,  that  it  should  have  been 
attempted  in  such  manner  and  so  untimely,  and  that  it 
should  have  failed  of  kindly  acceptance  in  the  quarter 
from  which  acceptance  was  so  transparently  coveted. 

As  Mr.  Clymer  said  on  paying  the  bills  for  music, 
flowers,  catering,  and  attendance,  all  of  the  costliest, 
"The  money  had  gone  out  at  the  big,  and  the  party  at 
the  little,  end  of  the  horn." 

"You'd  better  have  waited  a  year  or  two,"  he  re 
marked  to  his  wife,  with  as  much  acerbity  as  he,  in  his 
real  good-heartedness,  was  ever  guilty  of  toward  her. 
And  so  she  would. 

But  she  answered  him  bravely:  "We  '11  wait  a  year 
or  two  now,  and  then  try  again.  Things  alter,  and  girls 
change.  So  many  girls  grow  pretty  at  sixteen  and  on. 
And  who  knows  what  else  half  a  dozen  years  may  do  ?  " 

And  then  there  had  been, a  mention  of  Harry  Hens- 
lee,  and  of  his  father's  wealth  and  his  only-sonship,  and 
of  Colonel  Henslee  and  the  old  inheritance  at  Stillwick. 
"Nobody  will  ever  turn  up  a  nose,  not  even  a  Top- 
thorpe  nose,  at  Mrs.  Harrison  Henslee,  Jr.,"  Mrs. 
Clymer  had  declared  outright,  with  more  point  than 
elegance. 


110  SQUARE,  PEGS. 

Whether  Estabel  caught  the  last  sentences  of  this 
very  conversation  as  she  came  downstairs  and  into  the 
room  at  its  ending,  or  whether  it  was  in  the  air  about 
her,  and  floated  round  to  her  perception  as  a  thistle 
seed  floats  into  an  open  furrow,  or  the  little  bird  of 
an  undiscovered  telepathy  brought  it,  cannot  be  dis 
tinctly  asserted ;  but  the  idea  did  reach  her  that  it  was 
not  impossible  she  should  yet  grow  pretty,  and  that  — 
perhaps  —  well,  she  let  the  rest  of  it  float  away  again 
indefinitely,  leaving  only  a  faint,  sweet  corollary  of 
such  proposition  in  the  suggestion  of  some  great  good 
and  change  that  might  come  — -  through  somebody  —  to 
a  girl  who  should  grow  pretty  after  she  was  sixteen. 

And  this  touched  her  on  what  we  may  call  the  weak 
side  of  her  nature,  since  her  nature  found  only  weak 
things  as  yet  to  expend  itself  upon,  • —  her  love  of 
beauty,  her  passion  to  be  of  the  best  and  the  most  ad 
mirable.  Her  other  side  —  the  side  strong  against 
shams,  against  all  mean  covetousness  and  pretension  — 
was  none  the  less  alive  to  touch,  none  the  less  ready  to 
be  stirred  to  conscious  motive,  to  resent  a  judgment 
which  estimated  her  only  at  what  she  knew  to  be  her 
lowest,  even  while  unable  herself  to  trace  the  little  vani 
ties  and  anxieties  to  their  righteous  reasons. 

It  is  good  —  as  we  remember  all  our  old  faults  and 
follies,  and  detect  daily  our  new  —  to  know  there  is 
One  Judgment  which  understands  us  through  and 
through;  that  even  "if  our  heart  condemn  us,  God  is 
greater  than  our  heart,  and  knoweth  all  things." 

Ulick  North  criticised  Estabel  one  way,  Harry  Hens- 
lee  the  other.  She  felt  tke  censorship  of  both.  Against 
each  she  set  herself  with  the  contradiction  of  her  oppo 
site  characteristic.  With  Harry  she  maintained  her 
high  ground  of  indifference  to  superficial  valuations  — 
style,  manner,  fashion,  success;  with  Dr.  North  she 
almost  made  parade  of  —  she  certainly  did  not  conceal 
—  her  little  femininities;  she  let  him  see  that  she  con- 


CENSORSHIP.  Ill 

sidered  her  dress  of  consequence ;  that  she  was  pleased 
with  an  attention ;  that  she  liked  fun  and  entertain 
ment  ;  that  she  thought  it  nice  to  have  plenty  of  money ; 
that  she  enjoyed  the  fine  tilings  and  the  fine  service  her 
aunt  could  command ;  and  that  in  everything  she  an 
tagonized  the  severe  cynicism  which  found  fault  with 
what  was  happy  and  natural,  insisting  upon  a  lofty  dis 
paragement  of  the  harmless  little  wishes  and  pursuits  of 
people  who  thought  themselves  in  a  pretty  good  sort  of 
world,  if  only  they  could  secure  the  good  of  it,  and  be 
let  alone  to  enjoy  it. 

And  yet  every  time  she  disappointed  Harry  she  was 
grieved ;  and  every  time  she  detected  disapproval  or 
sarcasm  in  Dr.  North  she  was  hurt  and  angry. 

One  day  she  was  standing  before  the  pier  glass  in  the 
back  drawing-room,  according  to  an  almost  mechanical 
habit  she  had  fallen  into  of  investigating  her  own  face 
as  one  looks  at  a  nursling  plant  from  day  to  day,  to  see 
if  it  put  forth  leaf  or  bud  or  any  promise ;  and  Dr. 
North  came  in  behind  her. 

She  scorned  to  turn  too  quickly.  She  looked  at  him 
in  the  mirror  over  her  own  reflected  shoulder,  and  then 
deliberately  leaned  forward  for  a  closer  inspection  of 
herself.  He  need  not  think  to  surprise  her  into  any 
shame".  She  was  doing  no  harm.  Just  as  deliberately 
she  faced  him  presently. 

"How  do  you  do,  Dr.  North?  I  did  not  hear  you 
ring." 

"Archibald  did.      I  hope  I  did  not  interrupt  you." 

"Not  at  all,"  she  answered  in  the  politest  grown-up 
manner. 

The  doctor  laughed,  but  he  administered  one  of  his 
little  straightforward  blows  of  rebuke. 

"Nobody  will  ever  get  to  be  a  great  beauty,"  he 
said,  "by  always  watching  for  i{*bef ore  a  glass."  His 
manner  was  as  gently  composed  as  if  he  had  been  telling 
a  patient  that  nobody  ever  got  well  by  continually  watch 
ing  his  own  symptoms. 


112  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Nobody  will  ever  get  to  be  a  great  doctor,"  she  re 
torted  quick  as  a  flash,  "by  always  twisting  and  pinch 
ing  people  in  their  lame,  sore  places !  "  With  that  she 
sat  down  exactly  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  as  if 
ready  for  some  happier  conversational  suggestion.  These 
two  slapped  each  other  by  mutual  consent,  as  it  were, 
and  neither  ever  quite  knew  whether  the  blow  stung  or 
not. 

Dr.  North  smiled  on  and  left  the  word  with  her. 
Estabel  thought  he  did  not  care  whether  she  were  really 
offended  or  only  touchy,  like  a  silly  child,  about  her 
detected  silliness.  He  should  not  have  that  last  suppo 
sition  to  be  indifferent  about. 

"How  did  you  know  I  would  like  to  be  a  great 
beauty  ?  "  she  asked  with  a  tranquil  defiance. 

"Isn't  it  a  doctor's  business  to  find  out  weak  spots 
and  sore  places  ?  " 

"When  people  ask  his  advice  and  he  can  do  them  any 
good.  But  I  suppose  he  doesn't  walk  up  to  people  on 
purpose  to  punch  their  black  eyes  and  tread  on  their 
tender  toes.  You  haven't  answered  my  question." 

"How  I  knew  you  would  like  to  be  a  beauty?  Well 
—  because,  oh,  we  won't  quarrel  about  it.  All  girls 
do  —  would,  I  mean. " 

"What  for?" 

"To  be  admired,  I  suppose." 

"I  don't  want  that  —  first  of  all,  anyhow.  I  'd  like 
to  be  able  to  admire  myself.  I  admire  so  many  other 
things." 

"It  wouldn't  stop  there.  It  never  does.  Vanity 
takes  to  vanities.  You  'd  want  to  run  about  and  get 
the  reflected  admiration.  It  would  be  just  another  way 
of  looking  in  the  glass.  But  I  don't  blame  you.  All 
the  world  's  so, —  all  after  some  reflection  of  self-love." 

"I  think  you  have  a  terrible  quarrel  with  the  world, 
Dr.  North." 

"It  is  with  the  world,  if  I  take  the  trouble  to  have 
any.  It  isn't  personal." 


CENSORSHIP.  113 

"Persons  make  the  world.  Don't  you  think  well  of 
anybody  ?  " 

"Just  as  well  as  anybody  will  let  me." 

"  I  think  if  I  were  you,  I  would  pick  out  a  world  that 
I  need  n't  quarrel  with.  It  must  be  very  uncomfort 
able." 

"That  world  isn't  made  yet.  And  I  don't  expect 
to  be  comfortable." 

Estabel  looked  at  him  with  large,  inquiring  eyes. 
She  longed  to  say  something,  but  knew  not  what. 

He  could  not  tell  this  child  of  sixteen  how  he  had 
begun  to  build  his  world,  and  how  its  very  cornerstone 
had  crumbled  away  from  him.  Even  if  she  could  un 
derstand  or  care,  what  good  would  it  do  ?  But  he 
thought,  with  a  grim  amusement,  that  if  he  had  touched 
her  sore  spot  roughly  she  had  very  quickly,  with  a 
strange  sort  of  blind  instinct,  retaliated. 

Something  about  her  childish  frankness,  even  when 
it  was  petulant,  attracted  him ;  there  was  an  interest  in 
her  peculiar,  fearless,  outright  treatment  of  things.  He 
wondered  what  sort  of  woman  this  girl  would  make ;  this 
young  creature,  full  of  feminine  foible  as  he  read  her, 
yet  with  a  kind  of  possible  grandeur  in  her  if  foible 
could  be  eliminated.  He  never  guessed  that  to  her  he 
was  a  more  than  equal  mystery;  that  she  had  gathered 
hint,  from  chance  words,  of  something  that  had  befallen 
him  in  relations  of  life  to  which  she  had  not  yet  come, 
the  idea  of  which  caused  her  to  be  in  a  vague  way 
tender  of  him ;  which  touched  her  with  a  sense  that 
somebody  owed  him  something  of  another's  debt,  so 
that  even  when  she  was  most  whimsical  and  provokable, 
and  he  most  intolerant  or  bitter,  she  felt  underneath  all 
a  better  thing  that  might  be  in  him,  and  a  sorrow  for 
him  that  it  was  not  there. 

He  had  been  cruelly  hurt,  she  apprehended,  by  some 
woman;  some  woman,  for  the  sake  and  honor  of  all 
women,  ought  to  make  it  up.  She  would  like  to  have 


114  SQUARE  PEGS. 

him  believe  that  a  different  sort  of  woman  was  possible ; 
that  some  girl  might  be  growing  up  into  a  stature  of 
nobleness  that  that  other  had  failed  of,  and  he  seemed 
not  to  believe  in  any  more. 

She  believed  him  to  be  intrinsically  noble,  however 
harsh,  because  of  that  very  harshness  against  all  mean- 
.ness  and  moral  inferiority.  She  invested  him  with  all 
that  would  have  made  him  very  dangerous  to  her  if  she 
had  been  twenty  years  old  instead  of  sixteen.  And  she 
had  no  dream  or  consciousness  of  what  all  this  meant  in 
her,  or  might  come  to  by  permission  of  conducive  cir 
cumstance  and  continuance  of  intimate  relations. 

Furthermore,  she  was  in  her  simplicity  so  jealous  for 
the  man  he  was  missing  to  be  that  she  resented  his  de 
termined  cavil  and  discontent,  his  finding  everywhere 
the  meanness  he  despised.  She  resisted  his  impugn 
ments,  and  turned  his  bitterness  back  upon  himself. 

But  she  was  only  a  child ;  she  resented  as  she  com 
passionated,  childishly,  and  with  but  half  understand 
ing.  He  was  by  turns  diverted  and  singularly  moved. 

And  the  two  could  not  let  each  other  alone. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    REMNANT. 

"THE  Remnant"  was  to  meet  at  Mrs.  Westington's 
on  Sentry  march  Street. 

Mrs.  Westington  was  president,  and  this  was  the 
annual  meeting. 

Mrs.  Westington  had  a  plan  to  propose,  and  she  had 
invited  the  ladies  to  bring  their  young  daughters  for 
a  social  afternoon.  This  was  a  beautiful  opportunity 
for  Estabel,  and  Mrs.  Clymer  eagerly  appreciated  it. 

"The  Remnant"  was  an  old*" Topthorpe  institution. 
It  had  grown  from  the  more  ancient  Parish  Sewing  So 
ciety,  or  rather,  it  was  the  phoenix  of  one  risen  from 
its  ashes. 

Some  one  had  proposed  calling  it  "The  Phoenix," 
but  the  other  name  had  been  decided  on  as  declarative 
of  its  special  purpose,  also  modest  and  in  gentle  accord 
ance  with  gospel  precedent.  It  had  grown  to  be  unpa- 
rochial,  almost  undenominational. 

The  best  women  in  Topthorpe  were  its  members  and 
managers.  It  moved  on  this  line,  the  gathering  and 
bestowing  of  remnants,  —  remnants  of  time,  of  thought, 
of  money,  food,  clothing,  material,  anything.  There 
were  rooms  where  the  material  donations  were  received, 
utilized,  and  dispensed.  Members  in  turn  took  personal 
charge  here.  It  was  a  well-conceived,  well-conducted 
work.  The  social  element  was  a  very  pleasant  one.  It 
was  largely  under  the  control  and  influence  of  women 
who  were  above  clique,  who  needed  no  drawn  lines  to 
fence  them  in;  who,  at  any  rate,  recognized  nothing  of 


116  SQUARE  PEGS. 

them  here.  Money,  time,  thought,  work,  sympathy  in 
a  kindly  object ;  these  were  true  contribution  and  founda 
tion,  and  "The  Remnant"  was  generously  open. 

Mrs.  Clymer  had  early  joined  the  society.  Her 
money,  time,  work,  were  freely  given.  For  the  thought 
and  sympathy,  those  were  intangible  elements,  and  must 
he  taken  for  granted.  Knowing  Mrs.  Clymer  as  we 
do,  it  is  npt  difficult  nor  invidious  to  perceive  where 
her  thought  and  sympathy  took  most  vital  hold. 

Circles  touch  and  intersect.  There  is  always  some 
node,  or  tangent,  at  which,  for  a  point,  at  least,  they 
are  identical.  Mrs.  Clymer  was  tenacious  of  her  tan 
gents  and  quick  to  compute  and  catch  her  nodes. 

During  the  last  year  she  had  held  the  treasurership. 
She  never  missed  a  meeting.  Thus  she  visited  in  Doric 
Row,  down  beyond  Old  Park,  in  Sentryniarch  Street, 
in  Chapel  Green,  and  at  houses  in  the  Casino  Cres 
cent.  On  the  first  Thursday  in  every  month,  however 
it  may  have  been  between  times,  she  was  supremely 
content. 

And  now  she  was  to  take  Estabel  with  her.  Some 
thing  had  happened  better  than  she  had  ever  antici 
pated. 

Dressed  in  silks,  seated  in  their  carriage,  the  two  were 
driven  round  the  Old  Park  to  Mrs.  Westington's  door. 

Mrs.  Westington  received  them  in  her  drawing-room. 
They  were  early,  as  it  became  an  officer  to  be  at  the 
annual  meeting.  Only  some  half-dozen  others  were 
assembled  when  they  came  in. 

Penelope  crossed  the  room  to  greet  and  welcome  the 
younger  guest.  This  was  so  kind  and  delightful  that  it 
frightened  Estabel.  As  Penelope  led  her  over  to  her 
mother  it  seemed  to  her  like  a  presentation  at  court  — 
if  she  had  known  anything  about  such  an  unrepublican 
matter. 

Mrs.  Westington  was  explaining  in  mere  outline  what 
she  intended  to  propose  in  business  order. 


THE   REMNANT.  117 

"It  will  interest  the  girls  in  the  things  they  should 
take  up  in  their  turn,  and  it  will  bring  the  young  peo 
ple  together."  This  was  what  she  was  saying  as  her 
daughter  and  Estabel  approached.  Then,  and  as  others 
entered,  she  dropped  the  subject,  but  something  of  it 
was  already  whispered  round. 

"It  is  a  lovely  secret  and  we  're  all  in  it,"  Penelope 
said  to  a  little  inquiring  group  about  her. 

Estabel  stood  in  the  edge,  but  Rose  Alden  was  beside 
her  and  she  did  not  feel  left  out.  "We  are  all  in  it," 
sounded  so  kingdom-of -heaven-like  in  her  ears.  She 
had  not  been  so  happy,  she  had  not  felt  so  socially 
alive,  since  she  had  come  to  Topthorpe. 

It  only  lasted  with  her  until,  arriving  late,  Corinna 
Chilstone  and  her  mother  came  in.  Corinna  joined  her 
companions,  and  around  her  and  Hepsie  Arkley  the  cold, 
hard  crystallizing  began  again. 

She  heard  the  whisper,  "What  is  she  here  for?  "  and 
the  answer  in  Penelope's  higher  bred,  rebuking  tone, 
"Hush,  Corinna.  Just  what  we  are  all  here  for." 
The  championship  was  generous ;  but  why  should  she 
need  a  champion  ?  The  old,  proud  resentment  surged 
up  from  Estabel 's  heart  to  her  face  and  thrilled  through 
nerve  and  muscle.  Her  head  went  up  high;  her  cheeks 
burned ;  she  walked  off  toward  a  bay  window  full  of 
plants  and  stood  apart  there.  The  meeting  was  called 
to  order,  and  she  found  a  corner  seat  sheltered  by  the 
greenery. 

"She  heard  you,  Cora!  "  Penelope  said  indignantly; 
and  she  came  over  and  drew  a  tabouret  beside  Estabel' s 
chair.  Then  she  beckoned  to  Rose  Alden,  and  Rose 
came  and  made  a  third.  So  they  sat  and  listened,  with 
such  interest  as  they  might  —  two  of  them,  at  least, 
with  an  impatience  for  the  part  coming  which  should 
concern  themselves  —  to  the  secretary's  and  the  trea 
surer's  reports. 

Various    discussions    followed,    and    several    motions 


118  SQUARE  PEGS. 

were  made,  carried,  or  laid  on  the  table.  At  last  came 
the  motion  to  adjourn  the  business  meeting. 

In  declaring  it  so  voted  the  president  kept  her  stand 
ing  position  beside  the  central  table,  and  rapped  with 
her  thimble  upon  its  edge  as  the  hum  of  voices  began. 

"I  have  now  a  proposition  to  make,"  she  said.  "I 
have  asked  these  young  ladies  here,  who  are  more  or 
less  naturally  connected  with  us,  in  the  idea  that  they 
might  like  to  —  and  that  we  might  like  to  have  them 
—  form  themselves  into  a  subordinate  society,  with  a 
name  of  their  own,  to  do  the  lighter,  primary  work  for 
our  object ;  undertaking  the  part  that  it  will  be  good 
for  the  young  to  do,  —  the  little  things  and  the  little 
errands  auxiliary  to  our  own  work,  by  which  the  whole 
will  gain,  and  our  forces  be  economized.  Especially, 
that  they  should  make  direct  use  and  bestowal  of  their 
own  remnants,  which  will  involve  a  careful  and  prob 
ably  unaccustomed  consideration  of  what  their  own 
remnants  are  or  may  be.  There  is  a  great  deal  that 
girls  may  do,  and  that  they  may  be  learning  to  do,  that 
may  be  a  part  of  their  best  education.  Later,  if  you 
approve,  I  can  explain  and  suggest  more  in  detail.  I 
now  move  that  we  invite  our  daughters  to  organize 
themselves  into  this  cooperative  club  and  leave  the  deci 
sion  and  the  action  upon  it  to  themselves." 

Upon  this  the  vote  was  taken,  amid  many  kindly 
smiles  and  with  a  gentle  rustle  of  approbation ;  and  the 
new  society  was  invited  to  appoint  and  systematize  it 
self,  all  those  who  accepted  the  suggestion  and  desired 
to  join  to  withdraw  to  the  library  together  for  the 
necessary  preliminaries.  A  little  memorandum  of  the 
steps  to  be  taken  in  parliamentary  order  would  be  found 
upon  the  library  table. 

This  was  charming.  It  was  a  kind  of  coming  out 
into  society.  Indeed,  it  was  a  beginning  of  that  in  the 
best  way,  as  Mrs.  Westington  meant  that  it  should  be. 
The  leading  people  in  Topthorpe  were  not  all  Arkleys 
and  Chilstones. 


THE  REMNANT.  119 

"  Come, "  said  Penelope  cordially  to  the  two  beside 
her  as  she  rose  to  lead  the  way.  And  Rose  Alden 
gently  linked  her  arm  with  Estabel's,  to  whom  the  word 
had  been  most  evidently  spoken. 

How  could  Estabel  refuse  ?  And  yet  she  went  reluc 
tantly  with  these  girls,  knowing  that  she  should  not  be 
unanimously  welcome,  as  was  apparently  every  one  of 
the  others,  not  wholly  in  part  and  understanding  with 
the  young  set  so  easily  at  home  together.  What  a  thing 
it  was  to  have  a  place  that  nobody  disputed  —  a  recog 
nition  that  was  y.oluntary  and  of  course  from  all  that 
little  world !  What  a  nice  thing  it  would  be  if  nobody 
need  be  especially  kind  to  her,  because  none  would  think 
of  being  in  the  least  unkind ! 

She  sat  silently  through  the  little  formalities,  in 
which  Penelope  had  been  so  instructed  by  her  mother 
that  she  could  follow  without  hesitation  or  difficulty  the 
written  programme  provided. 

A  chairman  was  appointed,  Penelope  herself.  Then 
the  question  of  forming  themselves  into  the  society  sug 
gested  was  moved,  seconded,  and  voted  upon.  A  presi 
dent  was  chosen,  Penelope  again ;  this  was  an  almost 
foregone  conclusion.  Afterward  the  other  officers  in 
turn.  Rose  Alden  was  to  be  secretary;  to  Estabel's  in 
tense  surprise,  she  heard  herself  nominated  for  treasurer, 
but  she  hurriedly  interposed,  and  with  many  blushes 
begged  not  to  be  put  into  any  office,  and  one  of  the 
Arkleys  was  elected. 

Then  came  the  choosing  of  a  name.  There  was  much 
spirited  discussion,  some  unparliamentary  interruption 
and  confusion  of  tongues.  "The  Little  Remnant," 
"The  Last  Crumbs,"  were  in  turn  discarded;  "The 
Forlorn  Hope  "  was  laughed  at,  "The  Raw  Recruits  " 
also.  There  was  getting  to  be  too  much  joking,  and  the 
president  rapped  to  order. 

Then  Rose  Alden  asked  how  "Snips  "  would  do. 
"We  are  n't  sizable  remnants  at  all,"  she  said,  "but 
we  can  come  in  for  patchwork." 


120  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Why,  that  isn't  bad,"  said  Marian  Arkley.  "It  'a 
bright ;  it  has  a  snap  and  a  meaning  to  it.  May  I 
move  ?  " 

"  A  motion  is  in  order ;  I  think  it  belongs  to  Rose, " 
returned  the  young  president  with  grave  dignity. 

And  Rose  moved,  and  Marian  seconded;  and  it  was 
carried  by  vote  that  the  new  auxiliary  organization 
should  be  entitled  "Snips." 

"It  was  Estabel  Charlock  who  thought  of  it,"  Rose 
told  Penelope  as  they  adjourned  to  cakes  and  coffee, 
after  certain  simple  by-laws,  drawn  up  beforehand,  had 
been  read  and  adopted.  "She  whispered  to  me  just 
what  I  said  out  loud  to  the  meeting.  I  couldn't  make 
her  speak." 

"Don't  mention  it,"  answered  Penelope  wisely. 
"We  know  it  and  that  's  enough.  I  don't  see  why 
some  of  the  girls  are  so  stiff  about  her;  I  think  she  's 
nice." 

"It 's  her  aunt.  She  parades  and  she  pushes.  Just 
see  how  she  dresses !  " 

Mrs.  Clymer  was  rustling  across  the  room  in  her  vio 
let  silk,  conspicuously  rich,  expansive  with  crinoline, 
and  adorned  with  finish  of  Honiton  laces.  The  brooch 
at  her  throat  and  her  tremulous  eardrops  were  of  ame 
thyst. 

Mrs.  Clymer  was  always  conspicuous;  yet  if  any  one 
had  dared  hint  it  to  her  or  suggest  a  quieter  style  she 
would  have  exclaimed,  "Why,  how  am  I  different  from 
other  people?  "  The  rejoinder  might  have  been,  "You 
always  go  just  a  little  beyond."  It  was  a  pity  nobody 
did  tell  her.  But  it  would  have  needed  a  very  incon 
trovertible  authority  to  convince  her. 

She  would  not  have  acknowledged  it.  but  she  was 
really  nothing  to  her  own  consciousness  if  not  conspicu 
ous.  She  dressed  in  italics;  underscored  the  fashion; 
not  only  that,  but  added  an  exclamation  point.  She  ex 
ceeded  occasion  ;  she  enlarged  precedent.  Other  people 


THE   REMNANT.  121 

wore  this,  and  that ;  why  not  she  ?  But  her  pelerines 
were  broader,  her  sleeves  more  highly  puffed,  her  bon 
net  was  more  erect  of  crown  and  flaring  of  brim,  more 
nodding  with  plume  and  contrasting  with  color,  than 
the  other  pelerines  and  sleeves  and  bonnets.  More 
over,  if  somebody  wore  this,  and  somebody  else  that, 
she  wore  this  and  that  together ;  beads,  ribbons,  flowers, 
and  what  not.  So  with  her  entertainments.  "They 
all  do, "  was  her  motto ;  so  she  did  it  all,  and  all  the 
time.  Mrs.  Westington  was  right.  Overdoing  may  be 
ill  doing.  The  false  principle  extended  even  to  her 
ethics  and  her  theories  of  living;  what  she  found  in 
separate  or  occasional  instance  she  took  for  countenance 
to  predominant  motive  and  habitual  indulgence.  She 
quoted  the  inch  and  took  the  ell. 

It  was  hardly  possible  that  Estabel  and  her  Aunt 
Vera  —  good-hearted,  generous,  kindly  mannered,  and 
universally  obliging  as  Aunt  Vera  was  —  should  make 
their  purposes  identical  or  run  toward  their  aims  on  the 
same  rails.  The  one  wanted  to  get  at  the  why  and  the 
worth  while  of  everything;  the  other  lived  absolutely  in 
appearances  and  plausibilities,  and  never  searched  or 
probed  beneath  the  surface.  What  was  the  use  of  dig 
ging  down,  and  subsoiling,  and  turning  comfortable  con 
ditions  topsy-turvy  ? 

As  they  drove  home  around  Old  Park,  Mrs.  Clymer 
was  full  of  delight  and  congratulation.  It  was  such  an 
excellent  plan  of  Mrs.  Westington 's,  and  really  on 
purpose  to  get  the  young  people  all  together  socially. 
"I  told  you,  Estabel,"  she  said,  "that  there  would  be 
things  ready  for  you  if  you  would  only  keep  yourself  in 
the  way  of  them.  You  didn't  want  to  come  with  me 
this  afternoon ;  but  see  what  you  would  have  missed. 
It  is  everything  to  be  in  at  the  start." 

"  I  would  a  great  deal  rather  never  go  again, "  said 
Estabel. 

"Estabel  Charlock!  You  are  absolutely  unmanage 
able  !  " 


122  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"I  don't  mean  to  be,  Aunt  Vera,  when  you  are  so 
kind.  I  only  say  I  would  rather  not  go  again.  Of 
course,  I  shall  go  if  you  want  me  to." 

"And  what  does  that  amount  to,  if  you  are  deter 
mined  to  go  hating  it  in  your  heart  ?  " 

"Aunt  Vera,  you  are  doing  a  great  deal  too  much 
for  me,  and  yet  you  can't  make  me  into  the  kind  of  a 
girl  you  want.  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  to 
send  me  back  to  Aunt  Esther  ?  " 

This  was  confounding.  Mrs.  Clymer  caught  her 
breath  before  she  answered. 

"No,  I  don't,"  she  said.  "What  would  become  of 
your  education  ?  Are  you  willing  to  give  that  up  ?  In 
a  few  years  from  now  you  would  be  sorry  enough  —  on 
all  accounts." 

Estabel  was  silent.  She  knew  very  well  that  to  give 
up  her  education  would  make  her  sorry. 

"Auntie,"  she  said  very  gently,  "if  you  would  only 
just  educate  me,  —  and  then,  when  I  am  fit  for  some 
thing,  see  what  can  be  done  with  me  ?  Maybe  I  should 
understand  better,  by  and  by. " 

"I  believe  that  's  the  most  sensible  thing  you  have 
said  yet, "  returned  Aunt  Vera. 

She  looked  at  the  girl  with  a  fresh  scrutiny  as  she 
spoke.  She  remembered  her  own  argument  with  her 
husband.  Estabel  might  grow  pretty  before  she  was 
eighteen.  And  things  might  go  quietly  on  toward  some 
end  which  would  determine  everything. 

She  had  never  yet  adverted  to  what  might  have 
seemed  a  fact  greatly  to  her  purpose.  She  had  not 
mentioned  to  any  one,  as  introducing  Estabel  to  notice, 
that  she  was  a  grand-niece  of  that  splendid  Eleanor 
Charlock  who  had  taken  Topthorpe  by  storm  two  gener 
ations  ago.  She  was  wise,  with  her  usual  surface  wis 
dom.  Why  should  she  invite  comparison?  It  would 
be  better  to  say  nothing  of  that  till  Estabel' s  awkward 
age  should  be  past,  and  time  should  prove  what  she 
mi»'ht  come  to. 


THE   REMNANT.  123 

She  had  once,  on  her  own  part,  before  her  marriage, 
essayed  a  casual  word  of  the  family  connection. 

"My  sister's  husband  "  —she  had  begun  to  say  when 
some  old  story  of  the  aunt's  triumphs  was  being  re 
hearsed  in  her  presence ;  but  before  she  had  declared 
the  relationship,  an  elderly  lady,  —  who  had  been  a 
beauty  in  her  own  way  in  the  next  succeeding  time  to 
that  in  which  Eleanor  Charlock  had  eclipsed  not  only 
her  contemporaries,  but  those  who  might  come  for  a 
good  while  after,  —  had  observed,  "  Oh,  yes ;  I  remem 
ber  her  when  I  was  a  little  girl.  She  was  handsome; 
but  she  really  wasn't  anybody  in  particular,  otherwise. 
She  just  happened.  And  Topthorpe  society  was  small 
then.  It  wasn't  a  case  likely  ever  to  occur  again." 

And  Mrs.  Clymer  had  laid  that  saying  up.  Every 
body  would  not  speak  just  so ;  there  had  been,  at  any 
rate,  all  the  Henslee  prestige  added.  But  it  would  be 
as  well  not  to  throw  away  too  early  in  the  hand  a  card 
that  would  have  its  value  later. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
"SNIPS." 

MRS.  CLYMER  settled  it  in  her  own  mind  that  there 
was  to  be  a  waiting  time.  As  to  the  persistent  and 
anxious  following  up  of  a  single,  difficult  purpose,  this 
was  a  relief.  But  Mrs.  Clymer  never  did  really  wait. 
It  Avas  her  nature  to  abhor  a  vacuum.  The  meanwhile 
with  her  must  be  filled  with  something;  if  not  the  best, 
then  the  best  that  she  could  get.  This  necessity  was 
upon  her,  not  only  in  regard  to  Estabel,  but  as  to  the 
intervals  between  one  decided  step  and  another  in  her 
own  social  career. 

She  had  not  been  unimpressed  by  Estabel' s  early  sug 
gestion  illustrated  by  the  finding  of  latitude  and  longi 
tude,  and  being  content  to  abide  in  one's  own.  She 
was  not  a  person  to  go  on  sacrificing  immediate  ease 
and  pleasure  to  a  remote  and  uncertain  aim ;  the  bird 
in  the  hand,  in  short,  to  the  bird  in  the  bush.  The  aim 
must  be  a  noble  one,  enlisting  a  noble  constancy  of  na 
ture,  —  the  bird  must  be  singing  such  a  beautiful  promise 
that  to  come  even  near  the  bush  or  beneath  the  inac 
cessible  tree  and  listen  to  and  interpret  its  wonderful 
message  will  be  better  than  to  hold  fluttering  in  one's 
fingers  a  tamer,  commoner  thing,  —  to  induce  such  sacri 
fice  and  sustain  such  constancy. 

Mrs.  Clymer  had  neither  the  aim  nor  the  nature. 
She  was  eminently  of  a  disposition  to  lose  nothing  as 
she  went  along.  She  was  forty  years  old.  She  was 
not  going  to  put  off  till  fifty  the  beginning  to  live.  She 
had  the  price  of  life  in  her  hand  and  its  equipment 


"SNIPS."  125 

about  her.  With  her  money,  and  her  fine  house,  and 
her  fine  clothes,  and  her  carriage,  she  could  be  in  full 
evidence  to  herself,  and  to  a  certain  world  of  others 
like  herself,  as  a  woman  lacking  no  outward  sign. 
There  were  plenty  glad  to  enjoy  with  her  what  she 
could  offer,  to  admire  and  be  astonished,  as  the  serene 
manner-born  would  never  do.  She  could  have  hosts  of 
friends  if  she  would  take  them ;  she  could  come  and  go 
in  splendor. 

What  difference  was  there  between  her  and  those  of 
merely  longer  date  in  the  same  things,  wearing  their 
old  grandeur  in  a  proud  simplicity  ?  Maybe  she  would 
be  simple  by  and  by  when  she  had  demonstrated  that 
she  could  be  gorgeous.  Mr.  Clymer  was  wont  to  boast 
to  her,  realizing  the  convenience  of  an  alter  ego  to  make 
his  boast  to,  that  he  could  buy  out  any  half  dozen  of 
the  cofferdam  circle.  And  if  with  that  assurance  be 
hind  her  position  Mrs.  Clymer  could  not  hold  herself 
assured,  where  were  anybody's  credentials  to  anything? 

So  when  Mr.  Clymer  gave  the  social  inch,  she  began 
with  alacrity  to  run  off  the  ell.  He  had  admitted  that 
to  get  to  the  dome  of  the  State  House  you  may  as  well 
go  up  the  stairs.  And  doing  so,  you  need  not  hurry 
yourself  out  of  breath  to  reach  the  top.  You  may  even 
sit  down  halfway  up  and  rest. 

Her  visiting  list  grew  longer  and  more  mixed.  Here 
also  was  the  same  old  logic.  If  Mrs.  Blank  knew  Mrs. 
Dash  she  might  cultivate  the  former  lady.  And  if  she 
might  know  Mrs.  Blank  the  line  need  not  be  severely 
drawn  between  her  and  her  relatives,  Mrs.  Ditto  and 
Miss  Anne  Soforth.  In  the  same  way  that  she  reached 
up,  why  might  she  not  reach  down  and  along?  Things 
that  are  equal  to  the  same  are  equal  to  one  another. 
Anchored  to  this  axiom  she  swung  out  OH  a  long  cable. 

She  drove  about  merrily  everywhere  and  had  a  de 
lightful  time.  Whatever  went  on  that  was  generally  or 
readily  accessible,  she  was  at  the  front  or  in  the  midst 


126  SQUARE   PEGS. 

of,  —  church  socials,  charitable  fairs,  amateur  theatricals, 
concerts,  public  celebrations  or  exhibitions,  lectures,  wed 
dings,  funerals.  Clubs  were  not  as  yet. 

Mrs.  Clymer  was  in  every  crowd,  and  all  the  crowd 
knew  who  she  was.  She  nodded  and  smiled  and  how- 
d  'ye-doed.  She  remembered  everybody  and  everybody 
had  to  remember  her.  She  appeared  to  her  own  wide 
circle  —  for  she  certainly  had  a  circle  —  to  be  making 
a  grand  success. 

She  enlarged  her  charities ;  she  belonged  not  only 
to  the  Remnant,  but  to  the  Dorcas,  and  to  the  Five 
Loaves,  and  to  the  Two  Fishes ;  all  the  elementary 
associations  which  nowadays,  like  trusts  in  trade  and 
developments  of  discovery  and  invention,  are  grandly 
consolidated  and  moved  by  immense  central  dynamic 
power.  In  this  way  she  had  entrance  by  a  score  of 
penetrating  lines  within  the  touching  and  intersecting 
circumferences  before  adverted  to.  Every  centre  has 
its  radii.  And  any  radius  may  be  followed  inward. 

If  Mr.  Clymer  ever  secretly  objected  to  this  wide 
illustration  of  his  principle  and  all  that  the  erratic 
sweep  of  his  wife's  orbit  involved,  he  left  off  making 
any  hindrance.  He  gave  her  line  and  time,  as  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  give  to  Estabel.  The  longest  way 
round  may  still  be  the  shortest  way  home. 

For  the  rest,  nobody  seems  to  have  found  out  why  it 
not  seldom  happens  that  a  shallow-brained,  superficial 
woman  takes  practical  rule  in  a  household,  even  against 
a  man's  preconceived  idea  and  full  intent,  while  the 
man,  with  his  purpose  and  conviction,  stands  aside  and 
makes  way  for  her.  It  is  because  a  household  is  a  con 
struction.  And  the  law  of  construction  is  that  the 
strength  of  the  whole  is  only  as  the  strength  of  the 
weakest  part.  That  is  the  entire  solution.  And  it  is 
the  most  conclusive  argument  for  the  higher  education 
and  development  of  women;  the  term  "higher,"  how 
ever,  being  most  carefully  and  discriminately  defined. 


"  SNIPS."  127 

The  result,  at  any  rate,  of  the  present  order  of  things 
in  our  story  was  that,  as  with  the  old  Israelites  between 
their  alternate  salvations  and  declensions  in  the  times 
of  their  Judges,  "there  was  peace  in  the  land  for"  — 
well,  all  through  the  remainder  of  that  school  and  so 
ciety  year,  at  least. 

The  peace  might  have  been  broken  if  Mrs.  Clymer 
had  known  what  Estabel  had  done  in  proud,  provoked 
defiance  one  afternoon  at  the  "Snips."  With  her  own 
careful  withholding  of  her  queen  of  hearts  till  she  might 
play  it,  with  its  following,  as  if  hearts  had  been  trumps, 
she  would  have  been  dismayed  at  Estabel' s  flinging 
down,  in  open  challenge  to  king  and  ace,  her  humbly  but 
securely  guarded  queen  of  spades. 

It  was  a  rarely  summerlike  afternoon  in  May.  The 
trees  in  the  Long  Mall  were  tipped  with  their  fresh, 
tender  greenery;  the  lilacs  in  the  gardens  were  all 
aplume  in  white  and  purple,  and  their  scent,  with  the 
rich  sweet  of  the  daffodils  and  the  ineffable  pure  breath 
of  violets,  floated  out  from  dooryard  and  inclosure. 
Outer  wraps  were  cast  aside,  if  only  for  the  day. 

Estabel  walked  up  the  bricked  sideway  under  the 
elms  that  stretched  out  over  the  fence  from  the  Park 
border.  To  walk  within  was  already  getting  to  be  the 
privilege  only  of  nursemaids  and  children ;  so  the  great, 
wise  trees,  Estabel  thought,  knowing  how  many  child 
like  hearts  were  kept  outside,  reached  forth  their  un 
stinted  benediction.  She  wondered  why  there  should 
be  so  many  things  that,  as  soon  as  they  become  really 
beautiful  to  do,  are  done  with. 

She  wore  a  pretty,  small-checked  silk  dress  of  brown 
and  white,  fresh  and  glistening.  A  round  cape  of  the 
same,  ruffled,  fitted  close  about  her  shoulders,  and  just 
touched  its  frilled  edge  to  the  waist  line.  Her  straw 
bonnet,  lined  and  crossed  with  blue,  had  a  full  blue 
bow  tied  over  the  top,  between  brim  and  crown.  An 
other,  smaller,  matched  it,  fastening  under  the  chin 


128  SQUARE  PEGS. 

where  the  pretty  circle  met  that  framed  her  face.  In 
side,  against  her  hair,  were  little  white,  starlike  flowers. 
Estabel  had  had  her  way  about  this  new  spring  costume. 
From  what  she  saw  others  wear  she  had  learned  to  choose 
and  adapt  for  herself,  and  she  found  that  to  say  ''The 
girls  wear  this  and  that  "  insured  her  preferences. 

A  dainty,  restrained  sense  of  the  beautiful  time,  the 
sweetness,  the  delight  of  air  and  bloom  and  sunshine, 
responding  to  all,  possessed  her.  It  was  the  joy,  highly 
refined  and  limited  by  its  refinement,  of  spring  and  of 
young  life.  If  she  had  been  in  Stillwick  she  would 
have  been  out  in  the  woods  in  a  common  print  gown, 
free  to  run,  to  jump  the  brook,  to  sing,  to  fill  her  hands 
with  early  blossoms  and  her  heart  with  unrestrained 
ecstasy.  Here  she  was  only  going  quietly  up  the  pave 
ment  of  a  city  street,  where  from  numberless  windows 
her  every  movement  might  be  seen,  to  sit  properly  in 
a  parlor  with  other  young,  well-trained  maidens,  and 
sew  patchwork  or  make  a  little  apron.  There  was  a 
meeting  of  the  "Snips"  with  the  ''Remnant"  at  Mrs. 
Alden's.  Estabel  did  not  so  much  mind  going  there, 
although  she  was  alone  this  time.  For  once  Mrs. 
Clymer  had  to  miss  a  meeting ;  she  was  at  home  in  a 
dark  room  with  a  nervous  headache ;  but  had  insisted, 
nevertheless,  upon  Estabel's  attending  without  her. 

Estabel  slipped  in  almost  unobserved  —  perhaps  more 
comfortably,  after  all,  than  if  Aunt  Vera's  sounding 
robes  and  assertive  movement  had  led  the  way,  and 
found  a  seat  in  the  back  drawing-room  with  Rose  Alden 
and  the  Goodwins  and  Pen  AVestington  and  Margaret 
Lewis,  who  was  Pen  Westington's  cousin.  They  were 
together  in  the  recess  of  a  large  window  looking  out, 
first  into  a  balcony,  over  that  into  a  garden,  and  beyond 
into  the  hushed  seclusion  of  an  old  city  graveyard, 
where  the  birds  twittered,  and  lichen-crusted  stones 
leaned  as  with  some  mysterious,  silent  fellowship  to 
ward  each  other. 


"SNIPS."  129 

The  window  was  open ;  potted  plants  in  bloom  made  a 
hanging  garden  of  the  balcony,  and  a  bed  of  violets  below, 
and  white  and  yellow  crocuses  among  the  grass,  sent  up 
their  smiles  and  sweetness.  A  second  window  was  occu 
pied  by  Cora  Chilstone  and  her  special  little  coterie. 
There  was  animated  talk  in  each  little  group,  and  occa 
sionally  a  word  and  a  laugh  were  exchanged  across. 

"Oh,  isn't  it  a  lovely  day?  "  exclaimed  Rose  Alden, 
lifting  up  her  head  and  taking  in  a  long,  ecstatic 
breath.  "Isn't  it  hard  to  sit  still  when  nothing  else 
keeps  still,  but  is  just  growing  and  blooming  as  hard  as 
it  can  ?  " 

"If  you  could  see  the  woods  at  Stillwick  to-day!  " 
responded  Estabel,  the  keen  feeling  of  all  that  outside 
freedom  and  sweetness  taking  fresh  hold  upon  her  at 
the  word.  "The  rocks  will  be  red  with  columbines, 
and  there  will  be  great  blue  patches  of  wild  violets,  and 
clouds  of  anemones!  Down  by  the  brook  there  is  no 
end  of  them." 

"It  must  be  beautiful,"  answered  Pen  Westington. 
"I  've  never  been  in  the  country  so  early  in  the  spring. 
But  I  feel  just  like  Rose,  wild  to  be  off  everywhere, 
along  with  the  wind  and  the  sunshine." 

"Living  in  the  country  is  like  being  part  of  it,  — 
wind  and  sunshine  and  brook  and  flowers  and  birds  and 
all.  Here  everything  is  measured  out  and  railed  in  and 
portioned  round.  The  milkman  brings  the  milk  in  cans 
in  a  cart,  and  that  's  all  we  know  about  it." 

"What  have  the  milkman  and  the  milk  to  do  with  it, 
I  wonder  ? "  came  in  a  kind  of  sotto  voce  from  the 
opposite  recess. 

It  occurred  to  Pen  Westington  that  now  was  a  very 
good  time  to  mention  something  that  had  been  told  her. 
"You  knew  Harry  Henslee  down  in  Stillwick,  I  be 
lieve  ?  "  she  said. 

"Oh,  yes;  very  well,"  replied  Estabel,  and  added 
nothing. 


130  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"He  stays  therewith  his  grandfather,  doesn't  he? 
He  said  you  were  a  good  deal  there,  too,  with  your 
aunt.  Was  it  Mrs.  Clymer  ?  " 

"No.      My  other  aunt." 

"She  lives  in  Stillwick?  " 

"Yes." 

"I  suppose  you  had  a  lovely  home  there?  " 

"I  thought  it  was  nice." 

"Is  your  aunt's  place  near  the  Henslees'  ?  " 

"Not  very.  And  it  isn't  a  'place,'  at  all.  She 
lives  in  the  village." 

Over  at  the  other  window  a  smile  and  glance  went 
round. 

"Oh!  She  must  miss  you.  But  I  suppose  the  vil 
lage  isn't  lonesome,"  said  Rose  Alden.  Penelope  had 
been  silenced  for  an  instant  by  what  she  had  drawn 
forth,  as  if  she  had  somehow  pulled  a  wrong  thread  and 
things  had  raveled.  She  almost  wished  she  had  let 
well  alone.  Rose  Alden  would  not  let  the  silence  fall 
suddenly,  like  a  quenching. 

Estabel  had  no  notion  of  letting  silence  either  shield 
or  slur.  "No,"  she  said.  "It  is  not  exactly  lone 
some.  And  Aunt  Esther  is  a  very  busy  woman."  In 
very  perversity,  now,  she  was  courting  a  disclosure. 

"Busy?" 

"Yes.      She  keeps  a  millinery  shop  and  a  library." 

A  laugh  broke  forth  from  the  Chilstone  corner. 

Penelope  got  up,  with  her  very  tallest  dignity,  and 
walked  first  to  the  centre  table,  where  the  materials  for 
work  were  assorted.  She  took  up  a  pair  of  little  calico 
sleeves  and  carried  them  over  to  Marian  Arkley,  who 
sat  beside  Corinna. 

"  I  think  you  must  be  nearly  ready  for  these, "  she 
said  to  her.  "They  are  to  be  set  with  the  seam  to  the 
notch  in  the  armhole. —  Corinna  Chilstone,  I  'm  ashamed 
of  you!  "  she  whispered  severely  in  the  other's  ear. 

"Are    you?  "     Corinna     drawled,     not     whispering. 


« SNIPS."  131 

"You  'el  better  be  ashamed  of  yourself  with  your  cate 
chising.  See  where  it 's  landed  you,  in  Aunt  Esther's 
millinery  shop !  " 

Rose  Alden  was  chattering  with  all  her  might. 
Penelope  dropped  her  heavy  cutting  scissors  and  pushed 
a  chair  aside  to  pick  them  up.  She  hoped  the  rude 
taunt  had  not  been  heard.  Her  head  was  lifted  higher 
yet,  and  there  was  an  indignant  color  in  her  face  as  she 
walked  away. 

Afterward-,  telling  her  mother  about  it,  she  said  im 
petuously,  "I  wish  I  needn't  know  Corinna  Chilstone 
at  all !  " 

"You  can't  quite  put  people  out  of  society,  my  dear. 
There  is  too  much  interlinking  and  interweaving.  It  's 
like  a  silk  web;  if  one  stitch  is  dropped  it  ravels  a 
great  many.  Corinna  will  outgrow  some  of  this  imper 
tinence.  In  the  meantime  —  choose  your  intimates." 

"Mamma,"  said  Penelope  after  a  puzzled  pause, 
"don't  you  think  good  society  is  dreadfully  mixed?  " 

And  at  this  Mrs.  Westington  had  to  laugh. 

Corinna  had  also  her  story  to  tell  at  home.  And  she 
ended  with,  "Penelope  Westington  doesn't  keep  to  her 
own  set,  at  all.  She  is  awfully  independent.  It  is  n't 
really  safe  to  be  with  her.  She  '11  get  left  out  herself 
if  she  doesn't  take  care." 

Mrs.  Chilstone 's  sister,  who  was  not  a  professional 
society  woman,  was  taking  tea  with  them.  "I  like 
Penelope  Westington,"  she  said.  "She  is  always  lady 
like,  and  her  manners  are  so  cordial." 

"  Too  cordial."  Mrs.  Chilstone  clinched  the  matter 
and  the  moral  for  her  daughter  with  those  two  emphatic 
words. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    THEATRE. 

THE  Trepeake  Theatre  was  crowded.       • 

It  was  a  family  night,  a  benefit  for  a  young  Top- 
thorpe  favorite,  and  the  selections  were  made  to  attract 
fittingly  the  young  as  well  as  their  elders. 

At  school  that  morning,  everybody  was  "going;" 
that  is,  everybody  who  spoke  at  all.  Those  who  could 
not  say  that  said  wisely  nothing. 

The  plays  were  the  musical  rendering  of  "  Cinderella  " 
and  the  dramatized  "Cricket  on  the  Hearth."  The 
same  young  actress  took  the  parts  of  Cinderella  in  the 
first,  and  of  the  personified  "Cricket,"  with  song  and 
dance,  in  the  second. 

In  those  days  there  was  no  need  of  managers'  law  for 
the  removal  of  bonnets.  Nobody  wore  a  bonnet  at  all. 
Heads  were  "dressed;  "  ladies  came  in  carriages;  there 
were  no  street  cars  —  no  crowds  of  people  from  near 
and  far,  requiring  troublesome  head  cover  on  the  way. 

The  boxes  were  brilliant.  The  "pit  "  was  filled  by 
men  only,  who  looked  upward  and  around  to  the  resplen 
dent  circles,  where  sat,  as  it  were,  the  angels  of  heaven. 

Mr.  Clymer  had  taken  a  box  in  the  first  tier,  di 
rectly  fronting  the  stage.  Mrs.  Clymer  had  invited 
Mrs.  Lewis  and  her  eldest  daughter;  Estabel  had  been 
permitted  to  ask  the  Goodwins ;  Dr.  North  was  to  look 
in  as  his  time  might  allow,  and  there  was  room  for  a 
chance  friend  to  come  and  join  them  if  it  so  happened. 
Mrs.  Clymer  had  learned  that  it  was  well  to  appear 
with  a  party,  and  in  control. 


THE  THEATRE.  133 

A  fashionable  hairdresser  had  come  to  Mount  Street 
at  five  o'clock.  Mrs.  Clymer  and  Estabel  displayed  the 
results  of  his  art,  the  former  in  an  elaborate  coiffure  of 
plaits  and  puffs  behind  and  large  curls  drawn  back  in 
clusters  about  her  ears,  above  which  small  marabout 
feathers  nodded.  A  bronze  satin  dress  with  Marie 
Antoinette  cape  of  costly  lace,  open  sleeves  with  under- 
draperies  of  the  same  soft,  delicate  fabric,  and  a  white 
Canton  crape  shawl,  negligently  falling  around  her,  com 
pleted  her  toilet.  Estabel  had  on  a  blue  silk  frock  with 
swansdown  borderings ;  and  her  hair  was  let  loose  from 
the  schoolgirl  braids  and  made  into  a  cataract  of  curls, 
tied  back  with  a  blue  ribbon  knotted  over  the  temple. 
The  fair,  soft  tint  of  her  locks,  gleaming  in  their  liber 
ated  curves,  was  really  lovely  in  the  gaslight. 

Estabel  looked  nearly,  if  not  quite,  pretty  to-night. 
I  don't  know  that  I  need  qualify  the  statement.  She 
was  pretty.  She  had  becoming  color  about  her;  her 
bright  young  face  was  lighted  both  by  beautifying  out 
ward  illumination  and  that  of  the  inner  joyous  radiancy 
to  which  it  was  so  ingenuously  transparent. 

The  Goodwins  were  nice,  refined,  daintily  and  mod 
estly  attired  ;  Margaret  Lewis  was  beautiful ;  her  mother 
stately  in  quiet  simplicity.  Mrs.  Clymer  was  satisfied 
with  her  party. 

The  Westingtons  were  in  the  next  box ;  Penelope 
spoke  to  Estabel  across  the  partition.  A  little  way  off 
sat  the  Aldens  with  a  company  of  friends ;  Mrs.  Clymer 
and  Mrs.  Alden  exchanged  polite  bows  and  the  girls  gay 
nods  and  smiles.  Only  a  little  farther  yet  were  the  Chil- 
stones  and  the  Redpolls ;  what  matter  that  they  did  not 
see  nor  bow?  Mrs.  Clymer  was  in  the  midst;  the  whole 
audience  was  fashionable ;  she  was  a  fact  in  Topthorpe 
as  much  as  any  of  the  flashy,  intimate  set  alongside 
which  she  drifted.  They  were  only  the  light,  pretentious 
order,  after  all ;  there  are  spheres  and  spheres ;  who  was 
to  know  where  she  touched  most  familiarly,  and  how  far  ? 


134  SQUARE  PEGS. 

After  the  play  began  Estabel  was  absorbed.  She 
was  no  longer  of  the  audience,  far  less  a  conscious  per 
sonality  in  herself.  She  was  within  the  story  —  yes, 
the  story  even  within  the  story.  Fairyland  was  be 
hind  the  outside  tale ;  behind  the  loneliness  and  the 
unkindness;  behind,  above,  beyond,  and  yet  just  close 
beside  the  kitchen  chimney  and  the  cindery  hearth. 
The  girl  in  the  dull  brown  gown  had  links  with  the 
hiddenly  beautiful,  the  supernatural.  When  she  was 
left  all  alone  the  Queen  Godmother  came.  The  secret 
of  a  sweet,  patient  life  was  some  sure  glory. 

The  drop  scene  fell.  The  act  was  over.  Cinderella 
had  gone,  in  her  golden  coach,  in  her  glittering  dress, 
in  her  magical  glass  slippers,  to  the  royal  ball.  The 
brown  gown  had  parted  from  her  shoulders  like  an  open 
ing  chrysalis,  and  its  shriveling  folds  had  been  wafted 
away  and  had  disappeared  like  wind-driven  dead  leaves. 
Beautiful  music  sounded  from  the  orchestra.  Upon  its 
delicious  strains  Estabel' s  fancy  floated  on,  and  fol 
lowed  into  a  splendid  triumph. 

She  did  not  look  around.  She  did  not  even  know 
that  she  was  leaning  forward,  gazing  toward  the  cur 
tained  stage  in  the  unmoved  attitude  in  which  she  had 
watched  and  listened. 

Her  Aunt  Vera  looked  around,  and  noticed.  She 
saw  that  Harry  Henslee  had  come  into  the  Chilstones' 
box  and  was  seated  beside  Corinna.  The  two  glanced 
over  at  Estabel.  Corinna  said  something,  with  a  laugh; 
then  she  began  talking  as  if  describing  something. 
Harry's  eyes,  as  he  listened,  remained  fixed  toward 
this  centre  box.  Suddenly  he  turned  full  upon  his  com 
panion  and  answered  quickly.  Corinna' s  countenance 
changed ;  the  scornful  smile,  so  habitual  to  it,  dropped 
away  from  the  features,  leaving  its  downfallen  impress 
a  blank  surprise.  In  a  few  minutes  Harry  Henslee  got 
up  and  took  leave  with  a  bow.  In  a  moment  more  their 
own  box  door  opened  and  he  came  in. 


THE  THEATRE.  135 

There  was  room  behind  Estabel,  at  the  end  of  the 
second  row.  He  took  the  seat,  after  a  word  with  Mrs. 
Clymer,  and  leaned  over  into  Estabel's  abstraction,  from 
which  he  called  her  back  by  the  sudden  speaking  of  her 
name. 

"Oh,  Harry!  Isn't  it  beautiful?  "  she  exclaimed  to 
him. 

"Yes.  But  it  isn't  there  just  now.  Had  n't  you 
better  come  back  among  other  people  ?  " 

"I  was  so  glad  for  Cinderella!  " 

"Why,  you  knew  it  all  before,  didn't  you?  " 

"Oh,  of  course.  But  so  many  old  things  seem  new, 
when  you  really  see  them." 

"There  's  more  coming.  Those  old  catamarans  will 
get  their  reckoning- ups.  Wait  till  you  see  them  paring 
off  their  toes  and  heels  to  get  into  Cinderella's  slip 
pers  !  " 

"I  don't  believe  I  care  so  very  much  for  that." 

"  What  is  it  you  care  for  ?  " 

"Why,  what  Cinderella  had  all  along,  that  they 
never  knew  anything  about  —  what  all  the  real  gran 
deur  came  from.  Their  little  grandeur  was  n't  any 
thing,  you  see.  It  wouldn't  have  been,  even  if  they  'd 
mawied  the  prince." 

•"Both  of  them?  "  Harry  laughed. 

"Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean.  If  they  'd  had  the 
whole  kingdom.  Cinderella  and  her  godmother  had  a 
better  one.  It  's  the  inside  of  the  story  I  like." 

Estabel  had  two  auditors.  Dr.  North  had  come  in 
and  had  taken  his  stand  beside  Harry,  who  did  not  no 
tice.  Estabel  was  talking  with  Harry  over  her  other 
shoulder,  and  did  not  see  the  doctor  at  all. 

"Don't  you  care  for  outsides?  "  asked  Harry. 

"Why,  yes,  ever  so  much,  when  they  mean  insides." 

"That  's  a  riddle.  Estabel,  whatever  made  you  tell 
those  girls  that  Cousin  Esther  was  a  village  milliner  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?     They  were  asking  me  questions  about 


136  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Stilhvick,  and  whom  I  lived  with  there,  and  whether 
Aunt  Esther  had  a  '  place  '  like  Henslee,  and  I  just 
answered." 

"You  need  not  have  explained  particulars.  They 
would  n't  understand,  and  it  was  none  of  their  busi 
ness." 

"It  is  Aunt  Esther's,  and  I  'm  not  ashamed  of  it." 

Estabel's  head  was  up,  and  her  color,  in  the  way  she 
had  when  roused. 

"Well,  I  explained  more,"  said  Harry  Henslee.  "I 
thought  if  you  had  begun  at  that  end  it  let  me  off  from 
not  beginning  at  the  other.  So  I  told  them  you  were 
a  grandniece  of  my  grandmother,  Mrs.  Colonel  Henslee. 
An  old  lady  over  there  —  that  one  with  the  turban  cap 
- — pricked  up  her  ears.  '  Eleanor  Charlock!  '  she  said. 
1  Why,  I  knew  her.  She  was  in  society  when  I  was 
very  young.  Oh,  what  a  beauty  she  was !  And  how 
the  whole  town  went  crazy  after  her !  And  that  '  s  a 
Charlock?  '  Didn't  you  see  the  opera  glasses  all  turned 
this  way  ?  " 

"No,  indeed.  I  wasn't  looking.  I  wasn't  looking 
anywhere,  I  think;  only  where  I  couldn't  really  see  — 
after  Cinderella." 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Cinderella  should  be 
looked  after  —  after  this." 

"Hush!      The  curtain  's  going  up." 

She  did  not  apparently  take  the  trouble  to  interpret 
his  meaning. 

Harry  Henslee  went  away  and  joined  his  father  in 
the  orchestra  seats. 

Ulick  North  seated  himself  in  the  place  the  boy  left, 
behind  Estabel.  He  did  not  interrupt  the  girl.  She 
was  absorbed  in  the  play  again.  But  he  sat  and  thought 
things  over  about  this  other  Cinderella. 

What  might  grow  up  between  those  two  ?  What 
would  this  girl  come  to,  with  the  two  sides  of  her  — 
the  one  so  impressible  to  outward  things,  to  the  world 


THE  THEATRE.  137 

as  she  found  it,  the  other  so  contemptuous  of  all  that 
did  not  reach  down,  through,  or  in,  to  that  she  called 
"inside  "  ? 

She  might  so  easily  be  deluded  by  an  apparent  har 
mony;  had  he  not  been  deluded  so  himself?  She 
might,  as  he  haxl  done,  translate  mistakenly;  might 
think  she  found  a  reality  where  there  was  only  thin 
semblance.  Or,  indeed,  the  true  in  herself  might 
weaken  in  discouragement ;  might  find  nothing  to  an 
swer  directly  to  it,  and  content  itself  with  indirections ; 
be  forced  to  take  life  on  the  surface,  since  it  would  not 
yield  to  her  its  depths.  This  surface  world  might  yet 
become  very  kind  to  her;  she  might  succeed  to  her  in 
heritance  in  its  interest  and  indulgence.  How  would 
it  seem  to  her  then,  offering  her  its  smiles  and  sunshine  ? 
How  long  would  this  outright  honesty  of  hers,  this 
stringent  demand  of  the  real  and  best,  hold  out?  She 
was  not  yet  seventeen.  What  would  the  next  coming 
years  do  with  her? 

And  how  deep,  after  all,  in  herself,  did  this  inward 
reality  lie,  by  which  she  was  now  testing  the  world  in 
its  first,  fragmentary  relations  to  her?  Was  it  any 
thing  more  than  a  fairyland  —  an  inside  of  fancy  and 
romance,  just  as  unsubstantial,  as  sure  to  fail  her  when 
she  would  take  vital  hold  of  it,  as  the  other  dreams 
and  wishes,  of  beauty  and  place  and  comradeship,  that 
allured  and  eluded  her  now  ?  She  was  only  a  child ; 
she  knew  neither  herself  nor  life.  Everybody  was  once 
a  child,  but  what  has  come  of  all  that  childhood? 

He,  Ulick  North,  was  a  man  of  fact.  He  cherished 
no  illusions.  He  could  not  rest  in  the  intangible. 
Deed,  not  dream,  character,  not  aspiration,  were  his 
demand.  No  theory  held  him  until  demonstrated  by 
experiment.  He  had  had  eleven  more  years  of  life 
than  Estabel,  and  the  years  had  not,  he  thought,  been 
good  to  him.  He  supposed  himself  done  with  expecting 
much  of  good.  His  business  was  to  fight  evil;  that 


138  SQUARE  PEGS. 

seemed  to  be  what  men  were  put  into  mortal  circum 
stance  for,  if,  indeed,  they  were  put  at  all,  and  things  did 
not  just  happen  into  circumstance.  He  was  to  antago 
nize  pain  and  disease,  to  lessen  misery  and  hardness  as 
far  as  he  could,  in  the  little  space  of  his  own  environ 
ment.  If  it  had  been  a  good,  whole  world,  with  a 
healthy,  true  inside  to  it,  what  need  of  doctors,  or 
administers  of  justice,  or  preachers  of  a  religion  that 
should  be  inherent  life,  humanity's  very  heart-beat  ? 
Did  not  supplement  and  alleviation  confess  essential 
failure  ?  What  more  could  a  man  undertake  to  do  than 
to  fight?  What  was  to  come  of  the  struggle  at  last  — 
a  saving  or  an  annihilating  —  was  not  the  affair  of  any 
man.  He,  surely,  Ulick  North,  could  have  nothing  to 
do  with  it. 

But  here  was  something  come  within  his  environment. 
Could  he  help  this  little  girl  ?  Might  she,  with  her 
clear  intuitions,  her  generous  sincerity,  which  he  began 
to  concede  in  his  judgment  of  her,  so  be  sheltered, 
guided,  strengthened,  as  to  shake  off  girlish  foible  and 
the  contagion  of  surrounding,  as  to  come  forth  a  woman 
of  his  highest  imaging,  a  woman  such  as  ought  to  be, 
such  as  he  thought  once  he  had  found,  only  to  have 
his  belief  so  betrayed  that  love  and  belief  had  perished 
together  ? 

Why  was  he  caring  ?  What  could  it  possibly  be  to 
him? 

It  was  a  case  —  a  question.  It  was  something  to 
watch,  like  a  process  in  a  laboratory ;  that  was  all. 

When  the  plays  were  over,  Dr.  North  put  Estabel's 
cloak  about  her  shoulders,  and  accompanied  her  and  her 
companions  to  their  carriage. 

There  were  two  in  waiting  for  the  party, — Mrs. 
Clymer's  and  one  from  the  livery.  The  three  young 
girls  were  put  into  this  last,  and  Mrs.  Clymer  asked 
the  doctor  if  he  would  be  kind  enough  to  accompany 
them  to  their  two  destinations. 


THE  THEATRE.  139 

Estabel  gave  the  back  seat  to  her  guests  and  sat  in 
the  front  with  Ulick.  He  asked  her  if  she  were  warm, 
and  drew  her  cloak  more  closely  about  her.  The  spring 
wind  was  keen;  there  was  Labrador  ice  in  it. 

"Was  the  play  nice?"  he  asked  her;  and  although 
three  young  voices  broke  forth  together  in  delighted 
answer,  she  thought  he  meant  the  question  especially 
for  her,  and  that  he  was  especially  kind  to  her  to-night. 

They  had  to  drive  round  to  Hemlock  Street,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hill,  to  leave  Kitty  and  Helen,  who 
bade  good- by  with  eager  thanks.  Then  the  carriage 
door  was  shut  and  Estabel  was  alone  with  Dr.  North. 
He  made  her  take  the  back  seat,  but  kept  his  own. 
He  leaned  toward  her  presently,  asking  again  with  a 
slight  difference,  "  You  liked  it  ?  And  which  play  was 
the  best  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  Estabel  answered  with  some  care 
fulness.  "Both  together,  they  were  beautiful.  It 
seemed  as  if  one  just  finished  the  other.  I  liked  the 
kettle,  and  the  Cricket,  singing  all  along  and  keeping 
the  secret.  And  Tilly  Slowboy,  finding  out  things  and 
talking  them  over  with  the  baby,  as  if  they  two  were 
the  only  ones  who  could  understand.  '  And  did  its  hair 
grow  brown  and  curly  when  its  cap  was  lifted  off  and 
frighten  it  a  precious  pets  a  sittin'  by  the  fires  ?  '  Oh, 
that  was  lovely !  " 

Estabel  laughed;  but  there  was  a  little  catch  of  pa 
thos  with  the  fun,  as  there  is  in  Dickens. 

Dr.  North  sat  silent,  which  was  not  exactly  his  way 
if  he  had  had  enough  of  any  special  sort  of  talk.  A 
smothered  little  sniff  would  escape  him  in  such  case, 
or  he  would  start  some  utterly  inconsequent  topic ;  the 
more  insignificant  in  proportion  that  his  interlocutor 
seemed  more  in  earnest  and  likely  to  keep  on.  To-night 
he  let  Estabel  keep  on  and  listened  leniently. 

"And  the  Blind  Girl,  who  really  saw  so  much,"  she 
said,  "and  was  n't  cheated  after  all,  because  the  beautiful 


140  SQUARE  PEGS. 

things  she  had  believed  in  were  all  in  her  old  father's 
heart  for  her  and  real !  I  think  the  theatre  shows  things 
all  clear  through,  don't  you?  "  Estabel  was  still  carried 
away  from  herself;  she  was  still  gazing  through  the 
fallen  curtain  into  yet  unvanished  scenes,  or  she  would 
hardly  have  uttered  herself  so  unreservedly  to  impassive 
Dr.  North. 

''Perhaps,"  he  answered  her.  "If  one  looks  clear 
through. " 

The  words  startled  Estabel  just  a  little.  It  was  so 
strange,  she  remembered,  recalled  from  her  self-aban 
donment  by  their  uncontradictory  tone,  for  him  to  meet 
any  sentiment  or  opinion  on  lines  of  similar  feeling  or 
understanding.  How  good  he  was  to-night  not  to  spoil 
or  argue  away  her  pleasure ! 

And  then,  after  a  little  silence,  the  carriage  stopped 
at  Number  84. 

Sara  Sullivant  came  into  Estabel' s  room  to  help  her 
undress  and  put  her  things  away.  Her  help,  which 
would  never  leave  things  scattered  over  night,  or  any 
way  out  of  order,  was  doing  more  toward  making  Es 
tabel  orderly  than  any  reprimand  or  penalty  had  ever 
done.  It  appealed  directly  to  the  sense  of  fitness  and 
fidelity  in  herself.  It  identified  these  with  her  feeling 
of  beauty;  they  were  becoming  a  like  and  inseparable 
necessity  to  her.  Sara  was  the  embodiment  of  thor 
oughness  and  precision.  Estabel  had  said  to  her  once, 
"Sara,  you  '11  never  die  of  any  disorder.  You  couldn't 
have  one.  You  '11  just  wear  out  in  an  eternal  grind  of 
regularity. " 

While  Sara  smoothed  and  folded  and  hung  up,  she 
asked  questions.  And  Estabel  poured  out  to  her  the 
whole  story  of  each  play,  with  graphic  descriptions  of 
effects  and  occasional  dramatic  illustration. 

"But  I  want  to  know  about  you,"  Sara  said  at  last. 
"What  kind  of  a  time  did  you  have  —  between  times, 
and  off  the  stage?  People  don't  go  to  the  theatre  only 


THE  THEATRE.  141 

just  for  the  performance.  Who  was  there  ?  Who  did 
you  speak  to  ?  " 

"Oh,  there  were  ever  so  many  people  there  we  knew. 
At  least,  some  we  know,  and  more  we  only  smatter  at. 
And  it  was  all  very  bright  and  splendid.  Nearly  all 
the  girls  I  ever  saw  in  Topthorpe  were  there.  Harry 
Henslee  came  and  sat  with  us  between  the  acts.  And 
Dr.  North  rode  home  with  the  Goodwins  and  me." 

"Dr.  North  can  be  polite  —  when  there's  nothing 
else  to  do.  But  did  he  say  anything?  I  'd  like  to  see 
how  Dr.  Ulick  would  behave  shut  up  in  a  carriage  with 
three  girls." 

"Oh,  he  was  very  kind  and  pleasant.  He  asked  me 
how  I  liked  the  plays,  and  which  I  thought  was  the 
best.  He  seemed  to  like  to  hear  what  I  thought  about 
them." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  anything  he  thought  ?  " 

"Not  much.  He  just  said  half  a  dozen  words.  But 
he  didn't  dispute." 

"H'm!  Six  words  from  Dr.  Ulick  North  —  if  they 
ain't  disputin'  an'  sometimes  if  they  air  —  is  more  than 
a  whole  chapter  of  Numbers  from  some  folks.  He 
don't  trouble  himself  to  say  six  words,  unless  there  's  six 
words'  worth  of  something  to  say,  or  of  somebody  to  say 
to.  And  he  can't  bear  women  —  an'  so,  not  girls  — 
generally.  They  do  tell  he  's  had  enough  of  'em." 

"  I  like  to  please  people  who  are  hard  to  please  — 
if  they're  real,"  said  Estabel.  "Dr.  North's  real 
enough,  and  you  have  to  be  real  with  him." 

"Yes.  He  's  that.  And  I  think  he  's  as  pleased 
with  you,  sometimes,  as  he  's  capable.  That  ain't 
much.  But  he  puts  up  with  you.  An'  maybe  by  the 
time  you  're  full  grown  up,  he  '11  get  so  he  can  put  up 
with  your  bein'  a  woman.  There  was  a  man  once  car 
ried  a  calf  till  it  grew  to  be  a  ox." 

At  that  Estabel  laughed  and  jumped  into  bed.  Sara 
bade  her  good-night,  and  went  away. 


142  SQUARE  PEGS. 

For  a  long  time  she  lay  awake,  living  over  the  excite 
ment  which  would  not  let  her  sleep,  and  considering 
those  six  words  of  Dr.  Ulick. 

"I  think  he  looks  clear  through  —  most  things,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "That 's  what  makes  him  a  good  doc 
tor.  Uncle  Abel  says  he 's  '  great  on  diagnosis. ' 
And  that 's  why,  I  suppose,  he  's  hard  to  please.  I 
should  be  proud  to  grow  up  into  a  woman  that  Dr. 
Ulick  couldn't  help  liking." 

The  next  day  she  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Aunt  Esther, 
describing  her  theatre  evening  all  over  again.  And  she 
put  that  last  waking  thought  of  hers  about  Dr.  Ulick 
at  the  end  of  it. 

Aunt  Esther's  answer  came  inclosed  with  a  short 
business  note  to  Mrs.  Clymer.  This  was  all  there  was 
in  it :  — 

DEAR  ESTABEL,  —  I'm  glad  you  had  a  good  time, 
and  thank  you  for  telling  me  about  it.  But  as  to  see 
ing  clear  through  anybody  or  anything,  and  as  to  Dr. 
Ulick  North  —  Chooty-choo ! 

Your  affectionate  aunt, 

ESTHER  CHARLOCK. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

BY  THE    RIVER. 

THE  River  Shawme  pours  its  widening  waters  round 
the  westerly  end  of  Topthorpe.  Parallel  streets,  of 
which  Mount  Street  is  one,  run  down  to  it.  North 
erly,  the  great  bridges  cross.  Round  from  the  seaward 
wharves  on  the  east  shore  line,  through  the  broad  estu 
ary  up  which  rushes  the  salt  tide  that  spreads  out  upon 
the  marshes,  come  the  lumber  barges,  or  did  come  at 
the  time  of  which  we  tell. 

There  were  woody ards  and  carpenters'  shops,  and 
coal  and  lime  wharves,  on  Shawme  Street  water- side. 
Right  opposite  the  foot  of  Mount  Street  lay  one  of  the 
lumber-yards.  Its  piles  of  new  boards  breathed  out 
their  memories  of  the  pine  woods  in  the  June  sunshine, 
as  there  is  drawn  from  human  spirits  in  some  sweetly 
searching  way  the  secret  of  an  older  life  that  stirs 
vaguely  in  them  and  exhales  a  mystic  incense. 

Estabel  had  never,  until  a  certain  morning  in  this 
June,  walked  all  the  way  down  Mount  Street.  The 
northwest  winds  of  winter  were  too  fierce  across  the 
wide  water  space,  and  up  the  exposed  ascent.  Her  plea 
sure  walks  led  elsewhere,  and  she  had  no  errand  down 
so  far  as  Shawme  Street. 

But  this  morning  she  could  not  stay  indoors,  nor 
within  any  usual  bounds.  She  wanted  something  new 
of  all  the  new  summer  plenty  and  glory  that  were  burst 
ing  and  shining  over  the  world.  The  great  river  in 
vited  her,  gleaming  radiant  in  the  full  light,  the  blue 
tips  of  its  small  innumerable  waves  breaking  in  golden 


144  SQUARE  PEGS. 

sparkles  to  the  electric  touch  of  the  warm,  live  day,  its 
ample  flood  sweeping  hroad  from  shore  to  shore,  be 
tween  streets  and  wharves  on  the  hither  margin  and  the 
soft  stretches  and  rising  slopes  of  a  green  countryside 
beyond. 

As  she  went  down  the  bricked  sidewalk,  Estabel's 
feet  kept  dancing  measure  with  the  tossing  ripple  of 
the  stream  upon  which  her  eyes  were  held  enchanted. 
She  forgot  the  bricks ;  she  forgot  the  overlooking  and 
inclosing  walls ;  she  left  the  whole  great  city  behind 
her;  it  rolled  back  from  under  her  elastic  steps.  She 
emerged  into  a  great  freedom,  a  wonderful  joy.  Out 
there  was  the  real,  beautiful,  wide  world.  There  was 
a  Te  Deum  going  up  from  it.  The  sunlight  flashed 
the  words;  the  summer's  wind  sang  them;  the  little 
waves  sprang  up  gladly  in  their  places,  and  lisped 
the  antiphon :  "  We  give  thanks  to  Thee  for  Thy  great 
glory !  " 

In  Estabel's  heart  there  was  a  full  tide  of  tender 
pleasure. 

She  crossed  Shawme  Street  straight  to  the  pier.  An 
arched  boarding  over  a  gateway  where  the  trucks  went 
in  and  out  had  painted  on  it  "R.  Thistlestoke,  Lum 
ber,  Wood,  and  Lime." 

How  sweet  and  clean  it  smelled  here,  with  the  hewn- 
down  yet  still  living  forest  growths,  the  freshness  of 
the  river,  and  the  grass  scents  drifted  from  opposite 
meadows ! 

She  walked  slowly  down  between  the  stacks  of 
boards.  She  passed  a  little  building  upon  which  a 
lesser  sign  announced  "R.  Thistlestoke,  Office."  A 
middle-aged  man,  almost  elderly,  with  gray  in  his  hair 
and  spectacles  upon  his  nose,  sat  writing  at  a  desk  be 
side  a  window,  and  glanced  out  over  his  glasses.  Es- 
tabel  wondered  if  this  was  R.  Thistlestoke,  and  what 
he  would  think  of  her  coming  down  there.  But  the 
spell  was  too  strong  upon  her  for  any  hesitating  or  turn- 


BY  THE  RIVER.  145 

ing  back ;   probably  R.  Thistlestoke  felt  the  shining  of 
the  morning  also,  and  understood. 

She  went  on,  undisturbed,  to  the  very  end  of  the 
water  wall ;  there  she  sat  down  on  a  clean,  projecting 
plank,  sheltered  by  the  huge  pile  from  which  it  conven 
iently  protruded,  and  found  herself  alone,  face  to  face 
with  the  river  and  the  sky. 

Poem  and  psalm  drifted  through  her  memory.  She 
seemed  to  listen  to  them  as  she  looked  out  upon  the 
beauty  and  caught  the  softness  of  the  sounds  of  breeze 
and  wave,  the  plash  at  her  feet  of  the  still  rising  tide, 
and  a  far  hum  of  busy  city  streets,  so  nearly  hushed 
that  it  was  not  discordant. 

"  The  Shawme !      The  Shawme !      Our  own   imperial 
river!  "  appropriated  itself  from  Mrs.  Hemans's  exulting 
Rhine  song;   and  with  the  name  came  suggestion  of  the 
grand  lines  of  the  "Cantate  Domino." 
"  With  trumpets  also  and  shawms, 
O  show  yourselves  joyful  before  the  Lord,  the  king  ! 
Let  the  sea  make  a  noise,  and  all  that  therein  is  : 
The  round  world,  and  they  that  dwell  therein. 
For  He  cometh  to  judge  the  earth : 
With  righteousness  shall  he  judge  the  world, 
And  the  people  with  equity." 

Every  Sunday  afternoon  she  heard  this  sung  in 
church ;  now  she  felt  it  in  the  great  psalm  of  nature, 
from  which  it  was  first  drawn,  and  a  strain  of  which 
reached  even  here,  along  beside  the  busy,  common  city 
street. 

"Why  did  I  never  come  here  before?"  she  asked 
herself.  "And  why  aren't  half  the  Mount  Street  peo 
ple  down  here  to  enjoy  this  morning?  They  just  don't 
know.  They  are  among  the  shops,  plenty  of  them. 
The  silks  and  ribbons  in  the  windows  are  prettier  to 
them  than  this  blue  roll  of  water,  and  that  great  cur 
tain  of  blue  sky,  and  the  green  velvet  border  of  those 
fields.  —  The  earth  and  the  world  are  two  such  different 


146  SQUARE  PEGS. 

things !  —  And  yet,  that  verse  says,  '  He  cometh  to 
judge  —  with  righteousness,  and  with  equity.'  To 
make  things  even  and  right ;  I  wonder  if  they  really 
think  it,  Sundays,  when  they  sing  that  psalm !  " 

Sitting  quiet  by  the  riverside,  Estabel  was  launching 
forth  upon  deep  waters.  Deep  always  calls  to  deep. 

She  had  sat  there  some  half  hour  when  the  great  bell 
of  the  church  near  by  boomed  out  eleven  strokes.  Her 
aunt  might  miss  her,  though  in  this  vacation  time,  but 
just  begun,  she  had  new  privilege. 

She  rose  to  go,  but  stood  lingering  for  a  moment  for 
a  last  look,  a  last  breath.  She  had  had  the  best  of  the 
morning.  The  cool  shadow  of  the  sheltering  wood 
wall  behind  her  was  creeping  to  her  feet.  The  sun 
was  climbing  high,  and  the  blaze  was  already  hot. 

As  she  turned  to  go  back  the  way  she  had  come,  a 
movement  and  a  sound  caused  her  to  look  around. 
From  the  farther  side  of  a  similar  lumber  pile  to  that 
which  had  served  her  own  quiet  comfort,  a  young  girl, 
using  a  crutch,  came  into  the  aisle-like  passage  between, 
which  Estabel  was  following. 

The  latter  paused.  Some  one  else  had  found  the 
lovely  place,  had  been  sharing  her  own  delight.  Why 
might  she  not  say  how  glad  it  was  ?  This  would  not 
be  like  "speaking  to  strange  girls  on  the  street."  They 
two  had  had  it  all  together.  Wasn't  it  an  acquaint 
ance  —  knowing  the  same  real,  perfect  thing  ? 

And  this  was  no  Corinna  Chilstone. 

"What  a  beautiful  face!"  she  almost  exclaimed. 
But  she  only  said  brightly,  "Good-morning!  " 

A  flashing  smile  answered  her  as  the  girl  came  up. 

"Isn't  it  a  good  morning!"  she  returned;  and  a 
pair  of  glorious  eyes,  under  sunny  brows  and  lashes, 
lightened  with  almost  a  golden  gleam  as  they  met  Es 
tabel' s. 

Olive-hazel  - —  that  soft  tint  before  the  nut  quite 
ripens  —  these  eyes  were,  as  to  their  irids,  with  singular 


BY  THE  RIVER.  147 

fine  aureate  threads  rayed  close  about  their  pupils,  like 
the  stamen- star  at  the  heart  of  a  flower,  —  so  Estabel 
analyzed  them  afterward ;  hut  few  found  out  the  canny 
secret  of  their  coloring;  and  there  was  no  need,  for  the 
shadow  and  the  light  were  both  moved  from  within  and 
made  them  sometimes  gently,  but  always  sweetly,  grave, 
and  sometimes  translucent  as  amber  with  a  beautiful 

j°y- 

Her  dress  was  a  plain  brown  gingham ;  the  ribbon  at 
the  throat,  under  a  white  collar,  was  drawn  through  an 
old-fashioned  brooch  of  gold,  formed  in  a  circle,  that 
held  the  knot  in  its  centre.  Her  shady  straw  hat  had 
a  brown  ribbon  twisted  round  it,  whose  edges  were  a 
golden  colored  cord.  And  her  hair,  that  fell  richly  about 
her  face  and  behind  her  ears  in  natural  wavy  masses 
kept  just  short  enough  to  be  so  worn,  was  itself  russet- 
golden.  She  was  all  soft  brown  and  gold,  all  sweet 
soberness  and  light.  That  was  how  Estabel  first  saw 
her;  it  was  what  she  always  afterwards  found  her  to  be. 
Her  eyes,  and  more  than  her  eyes,  were  satisfied  with 
a  rare,  strange  pleasure. 

"  Have  you  just  found  this  place,  like  me  ?  "  she 
asked,  dropping  back  to  walk  beside  the  newcomer. 

"Oh,  no!  "  the  girl  laughed.  "I  belong  here  almost. 
I  come  here  every  pleasant  day  since  I  got  well  of  my 
broken  leg.  It  left  me  a  little  weak,  and  so  they  turn 
me  out  loose.  Mr.  Thistlestoke  is  a  friend  of  my 
father's.  He  gets  all  his  lumber  here  —  my  father,  I 
mean.  He's  a  carpenter  —  a  housebuilder.  We  live 
round  in  Shawme  Street,  close  by." 

"I  live  in  Mount  Street  with  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Clymer. 
I've  been  going  to  school  all  last  winter;  and  I  never 
knew  about  this  lovely  place  before.  I  feel  as  if  I  had 
discovered  America  over  again." 

"I  guess  people  are  always  discovering  —  or  might 
be  if  they  knew  how.  There  's  such  a  great  deal  in  the 
world.  Is  n't  there?" 


148  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Yes.  Sometimes  it  worries  me  to  think  of  all  that 's 
beyond  my  reach;  and  then,  again,  I  'm  glad  that  it  's 
all  there,  and  I  've  only  just  begun,  and  can  never  come 
to  the  end  of  it." 

"To  the  end  —  no.  But  it's  all  for  everybody, 
some  time,  my  grandmother  says." 

A  shadow  fell  on  Estabel's  face.  "I  haven't  either 
a  mother  or  a  grandmother,"  she  said.  "I  never  had 
—  to  know.  I  've  only  aunts.  And  they  're  just  as 
different  as  they  can  be.  But  they  're  very  good  to 
me,"  she  added  quickly.  "Only  I  think  it  takes  the 
mothers  and  the  grandmothers  to  quite  understand,  and 
explain  for  you." 

"My  mother  is  dead,  too.  But  my  grandmother 
says  I  'm  my  mother  and  myself,  both,  to  her.  And 
I  'm  sure  she  's  that  kind  of  a  mother  to  me  that  means 
both." 

"Won't  you  please  tell  me  your  name?  " 

"Oh,  yes.  Lilian  Hawtr.ee.  Elizabeth  Anne,  really. 
But  they  put  it  all  together  and  called  me  Lilian  while 
my  mother  was  alive  because  it  was  her  name,  too;  and 
so  I  'm  Lilian  now. " 

She  did  not  ask  Estabel's  name  in  return.  Frank 
and  sweet  as  she  was,  she  knew  the  little  outside  dif 
ference  there  was  between  the  carpenter's  shop  and 
Shawme  Street,  and  the  house  of  some  rich  man,  doubt 
less,  up  among  the  people  on  the  hill.  She  waited, 
but  Estabel  did  not  let  her  wait. 

"I  am  Estabel  Charlock.  Now  we  know  each  other. 
May  I  come  down  here  again  and  talk  with  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  wish  you  would.  I  'm  just  a  little  lonesome, 
sometimes,  after  somebody  of  my  own  age.  You  see 
I  'm  not  quite  strong,  and  the  girls  round  here  play 
games  that  I  don't  care  for,  and  I  don't  know  very 
many  people.  Grandmother  is  particular.  Everybody  's 
particular  in  the  city  —  in  different  ways ;  or  else  — 
they  aren't  particular  at  all,  and  that  is  worse." 


BY  THE  RIVER.  149 

The  two  parted  at  the  corner  of  Shawme  and  Mount 
streets. 

But  a  friendship  had  been  born  there,  that  June 
morning,  among  the  sweet-smelling  lumber  piles  by  the 
blue  Shawme  Kiver.  Two  young  human  souls,  as  had 
been  meant,  had  found  each  other. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WHICH    END    IS    THE    REMNANT? 

"!T  is  just  the  difference  between  a  lot  of  little  round 
shot,  rolling  about  together,  and  a  few  drops  of  quick 
silver,  "  said  Estabel. 

"What  is  just  that,  may  I  ask?  "  inquired  Dr.  Ulick, 
coming  in  from  the  dining-room,  where  his  Uncle  Clymer 
had  been  showing  him  some  plans  and  papers. 

"The  difference  between  people  you  are  acquainted 
with  and  those  you  know, "  Estabel  answered. 

"  She  knows  a  new  girl  —  intimately ;  she  has  seen 
her  three  times, "  Harry  Henslee  explained,  laughing. 

"She  's  the  sweetest  girl  I  've  seen  in  Topthorpe." 

"She  is  a  carpenter's  daughter  down  in  Shawme 
Street." 

Estabel  and  her  aunt  made  these  respective  decla 
rations  to  the  world  in  general,  not  looking  at  each 
other.  Mrs.  Clymer  drew  a  long  thread  of  wool  from 
the  light  heap  in  her  lap-basket,  and  plied  her  ivory 
needles  rapidly. 

"Jesus  Christ  was  a  carpenter." 

"Don't  be  irreverent,  Estabel." 

"No,  aunt,  I  'm  not.  But  I  think  if  Jesus  Christ 
was  alive  —  I  don't  mean  that,"  she  corrected  indig 
nantly,  as  she  caught  the  irrepressible  flicker  of  a  smile 
on  Dr.  North's  face —  "who's  irreverent  now,  I  won 
der  ?  —  I  mean,  if  He  was  here  in  this  city,  as  he  was 
in  Jerusalem,  there  is  n't  a  house  he  'd  go  to  sooner 
than  Mr.  Hawtree's.  Nor  where  they  'd  be  more  fit  to 
have  him." 


WHICH  END  IS  THE   REMNANT?          151 

"Estabel,  I  think  you  have  said  enough." 

Then  Estabel  became  quiet.  She  knew  that  she  had 
spoken  her  true  words  too  audaciously,  and  might  per 
haps  so  have  lost  her  cause. 

She  bent  her  head  over  her  own  work,  which  was  the 
covering  little  cardboard  lozenges  with  bits  of  silk.  A 
basket  full  of  them,  cut  to  match  each  other,  lay  upon 
a  little  stool  beside  her.  For  a  few  minutes  she  was 
as  retired  within  herself  as  if  there  had  not  been  others 
in  the  room.  Then  Dr.  North  came  round  and  placed 
himself  on  a  sofa  end  behind  her  low  chair. 

Harry  Henslee  had  watched  her  quizzically,  with 
a  mind  to  a  like  move,  but  was  just  too  late.  Mr. 
Clymer  had  come  in  from  the  other  room  and  joined  the 
group  about  the  large  centre  table,  over  which  a  resplen 
dent  chandelier  shed  its  abundant  light.  He  brought 
with  him  his  book  of  plans,  and  said  something  to  Harry 
about  his  father,  and  a  proposed  meeting  the  next  night 
of  the  investors  in  the  undertaking  the  drawings  repre 
sented,  of  which  company  the  elder  Mr.  Henslee  was  one. 
And  when  Mr.  Clymer  began  talking  of  this  great  scheme 
for  the  improvement  of  the  "  Round, "  which  should  build 
it  up  into  a  "Place  "  of  elegant  dwellings  and  plant  a 
new  fashionable  nucleus,  it  was  not  easy  to  escape  the 
subject,  or  to  make  an  available  pause. 

"Mrs.  Clymer  and  you  seem  to  be  weaving  and 
patching  rainbows,"  said  Ulick  to  Estabel.  "Is  all 
this  work  for  the  '  Snips  '  ?  " 

"Looks  like  it,  does  n't  it?  Yes.  It's  for  the 
great  Remnants  and  Snips  Fair.  Aunt  Vera  is  knit 
ting  up  a  '  Magic  Ball '  into  what  Sara  Sullivant  calls 
a  '  varigated  African ;  '  and  these  "  (running  her  fin 
gers  under  the  pile  of  silken  scraps  and  tossing  up  a 
brilliant  confusion)  "are  to  be  a  grand  divan  cover  in 
perspective  blocks.  We  shall  raffle  it  for  fifty  dollars." 
"Fifty  dollars'  worth  of  snipped-up  time,"  remarked 
the  doctor.  "I  wonder  what  snips  and  remnants  truly 


152  SQUARE  PEGS. 

are !  Something  you  have  to  make  first  —  out  of  whole 
cloth  —  or  what  really  happens  to  get  left  of  any 
thing  ?  " 

"Aunt  Vera,  what  are  remnants?"  Estabel  handed 
over  the  question  to  Mrs.  Clymer,  breaking  amicably 
with  a  new  subject  the  silence  that  had  fallen  somewhat 
glumly  upon  that  lady. 

"Things  left  over." 

"After  what?  I  've  often  wondered  where  the  using 
ended  and  the  left-over  began." 

"When  you  've  got  all  you  want,  I  suppose,  and 
there  's  a  little  more  than  you  can  do  anything  with." 

Dr.  North  saw  that  the  conversation  was  getting  on 
very  well  without  him,  and  sat  back,  complacently  lis 
tening. 

"Aunt  Vera,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  left-over  might 
very  often  be  the  biggest  piece." 

Ulick  laughed. 

"What  do  you  apply  that  to?  "   asked  Mrs.  Clymer. 

"  Why,  to  the  definition  of  our  snips  and  remnants. 
They  were  to  be  of  time  and  money  and  thought  that 
we  did  not  need  for  ourselves.  And  I  do  believe  we 
measure  them  off  at  the  wrong  end  very  often." 

"Where  would  you  measure  them?  " 

"I  don't  know.  It  's  quite  likely  I  should  measure 
them  as  other  people  do,  —  a  great  big  plenty  for  myself, 
and  scraps  and  parings  for  the  rest.  But  it  doesn't 
seem  to  me  as  if  that  was  the  way  it  was  meant.  There 
were  twelve  baskets  full  picked  up,  you  know.  Just  as 
much  as  those  twelve  men  could  carry,  I  suppose.  And 
that  was  after  they  had  divided  round  all  they  had  at 
first.  I  wish  it  told  what  they  did  with  them." 

"  The  baskets  full  ?  Kept  on  dividing,  somehow, 
probably  —  don't  you  think?"  put  in  Dr.  Ulick. 
"There  was  something  for  some  of  those  five  thousand 
to  carry  home  —  even  after  they  were  no  longer  hungry. 
It 's  a  pretty  apologue." 


WHICH  END  IS  THE  REMNANT?         153 

"An  apologue  is  a  fable,  isn't  it?"  demanded  Es 
tabel  with  a  challenging  surprise. 

"Well,  a  fable  is  a  guise  of  truth.  We  won't  go 
into  that  just  now.  Please  let  us  know  which  end  of 
the  cloth  you  consider  the  remnant." 

"I  think  it  must  be  all  that  we  don't  actually  need 
to  cut  off  for  ourselves." 

"And  then  what?  " 

"Why,  cut  for  other  people,  just  as  long  as  it  will 
hold  out." 

"And  never  store  away?  " 

"Not  much.  Perhaps  not  any  —  if  we're  making 
new  cloth  all  the  time." 

"Rank  communism!"  exclaimed  the  doctor.  But 
there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  half  frankly  sympa 
thetic,  half  sardonically  diverted. 

"They  '11  be  a  splendid  lot  of  houses.  And  not  too 
many  of  them.  It  will  be  the  making  of  this  new  part 
of  the  city.  You  '11  live  in  one  of  them,  yourself,  a 
few  years  hence,  Harry,  as  likely  as  not.  This  is  to 
be  the  court  end  of  Topthorpe.  —  See  here,  all  of  you. 
We  want  a  name  for  the  new  Place,"  said  Mr.  Clymer, 
turning  round  with  his  last  words  toward  the  three  others. 

Dr.  North  found  time  to  say  to  Estabel  that  which 
he  had  really  come  beside  her  to  say. 

"You've  come  across  a  new  Cinderella,  haven't 
you?"  he  asked  her.  "Are  you  going  to  turn  Fairy 
Godmother  ?  " 

"There's  a  Godmother  already,"  Estabel  answered. 
"  The  most  beautiful,  dear,  old  —  no,  not  old  at  all  — 
she's  fresh  and  new  and  makes  everything  else  so  — 
Grand-mother  !  But  there  's  no  time  to  tell  you  about 
her  now. " 

And  they  fell  into  the  discussion  over  the  name  of 
the  fine  new  Square,  as  expected. 

"Why  not  '  Clymer  '  ?  "  suggested  Dr.  North. 

Uncle  Abel  looked  pleased.      "Oh,  there  are  half  a 


154  SQUARE  PEGS. 

dozen  others  with  as  good  a  right  —  perhaps, "  he  said. 
"To  be  sure,  I  'm  the  largest  shareholder.  But  we 
don't  intend  to  make  it  personal.  I  've  thought  of 
'  Westmarch  Place.'  It  isn't  a  Square,  you  know. 
It's  to  be  an  arc  —  or  a  bow — open  at  this  end. 
We  've  taken  in  the  lots  this  side  of  Clover  Street.  It 
will  be  thoroughly  quiet  and  retired  —  all  to  itself. 
There  's  privilege  in  it,  you  see  —  limited  privilege,  and 
folks  will  always  pay  for  that.  Oh,  it 's  a  noble 
scheme !  It  means  a  twelve  per  cent,  interest  to  in 
vestors,  on  five  years'  leases;  to  say  nothing  of  dou 
bling  ultimate  values.  No  sales,  mind  you,  under  ten 
years.  And  now  for  a  name." 

"Why  not  call  it  '  Privilege  Place  '  ?  "   said  Harry. 

"  Or  '  Monopoly, '  or  '  Prerogative  '  ?  "  added  the 
doctor,  intensifying  Harry's  joke  to  an  absurdity  that 
could  not  possibly  be  taken  gravely. 

"Why  not  just  '  The  Arc  '  ?  "  asked  Estabel. 

"  Wherein  eight  souls  —  or  a  few  more  —  are  to  be 
saved  out  of  the  common  lot  ?  "  whispered  Dr.  North. 

Mr.  Clymer  did  not  hear  that ;  he  answered  Estabel 
literally.  "It  is  n't  bad;  but  it  hardly  specifies  suffi 
ciently.  We  want  it  to  have  quality  —  name  and  all." 

"Ah,  the  old  Ark  missed  it!  "  Dr.  North  persisted, 
in  his  private  sotto  voce. 

Estabel  laughed  quietly,  and  said  "hush!"  enjoying 
very  much,  nevertheless,  the  little  confidential  fun  with 
the  dour  doctor.  Then  aloud,  to  her  uncle,  "Perhaps 
'  The  Zodiac  '  would  do.  Only  that  's  a  circle,  I  be 
lieve." 

"An  imaginary  band,"  said  Dr.  North,  "in  which 
the  chief  constellations  are  supposed  to  be  set,  and 
among  which  the  sun  has  his  path.  But  it  isn't  of 
much  use  in  our  advanced  astronomy;  and  the  name 
comes  from  '  zoo, '  you  know,  which  is  a  garden  of 
animals." 

Everybody  laughed    at   that.      Mr.   Clymer   shut   up 


WHICH  END  IS  THE  REMNANT?         155 

his  book  of  drawings.  "I  want  real  suggestions,"  he 
said,  with  a  slight  irritation. 

"Really,  then,  Uncle  Abel,"  said  Estabel,  "I 
would  n't  call  it  anything  that  refers  to  shape  or  build 
ings  or  imaginary  circles.  I  'd  make  it  sound  sweet 
and  delightful,  somehow.  Why  not  '  West  Gardens  '  ? 
The  houses  are  all  to  have  gardens,  and  the  Round  will 
be  a  middle  garden  for  the  whole." 

"It  's  the  best  yet,"  declared  Mr.  Clymer  in  a  cheer 
fully  altered  tone;  and  he  took  up  his  plans  and  carried 
them  off. 

Ulick  North  did  not  forget  Estabel  and  her  Cinder 
ella.  He  got  a  word  about  that  matter  presently  with 
Mrs.  Clymer. 

"I  think  you  may  trust  her  to  take  a  good  deal  of 
her  own  way,"  he  told  Aunt  Vera.  "She  won't  go 
so  far  wrong  in  such  directions,  as  she  might  in  some 
others.  She  is  full  of  fancy,  and  it  must  take  hold  of 
something.  I  happen  to  know  these  Hawtrees.  I 
visited  them  in  my  early  practice,  with  Dr.  Sayward. 
And  the  young  girl  is  a  recent  patient  of  mine ;  she  had 
a  broken  leg.  They  are  quite  safe  people,  satisfied 
where  they  belong.  It  would  be  an  isolated  case  of 
intimacy  if  it  came  to  that." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  it  doesn't  matter  much.  It  may  be 
a  safety  valve,  as  you  say.  Only  one  never  really 
knows  where  a  girl  like  Estabel  will  stop.  I  dare  say 
this  would  naturally,  however,  be  separate  from  any 
thing  else.  There  would  be  no  actual  clashing  nor 
mixing  up.  In  fact,  it  's  a  kind  of  charity  visiting." 

Dr.  North  let  it  rest  with v  that.  He  did  not  tell 
Mrs.  Clymer  that  Lilian  Hawtree  was  a  young  girl  such 
as  one  has  in  Topthorpe  but  a  few,  sift  and  winnow  as 
people  may.  Such  positive  praise,  or  even  unqualified 
opinion,  was  hardly  characteristic  of  him.  Neither,  in 
this  instance,  would  it  be  likely  to  take  effect ;  and  Dr. 
North  knew  how  to  suit  his  therapeutics  to  his  cases. 


156  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Harry's  father  came  in,  and  this  brought  back  Mr. 
Clymer,  his  head  still  full  of  the  great  project,  and 
fresh  talk  followed.  Dr.  North  lingered. 

Mrs.  Clymer  sat  back  comfortably,  and  listened, 
knitting  her  long  rows,  drawing  out  her  wool,  and  chan 
ging  her  needles,  always  to  repeat  the  self-same  stitches, 
back  and  forth.  It  was  like  her  life.  The  ball  of 
wool  was  big;  the  soft,  continuous  thread  was  ready  to 
her  hand  without  a  break  or  snarl,  the  colors  cunningly 
apportioned  in  a  preconceived  order ;  she  had  only  to  keep 
on  picking  up  her  loops  and  taking  care  to  drop  none. 

Her  little  talk  with  Ulick  had  relieved  her.  She 
was  always  glad  to  settle  things  easily.  No  great  harm 
could  be  done  by  letting  them  run  awhile  just  now. 
Estabel  was  to  spend  the  month  of  July  with  her  Aunt 
Esther  at  Stilhvick,  and  for  August  Aunt  Vera  had 
another  plan.  When  school  began  again  and  winter 
came,  all  would  fall  into  the  old  routine.  There  would 
be  no  sitting  by  the  river  then. 

But  Mrs.  Clymer  did  not  fully  understand  the  differ 
ence  between  leaden  shot  and  drops  of  quicksilver. 

Across  her  thoughts  broke  disjointedly  the  accompani 
ment  of  business  explanations  in  business  phrase. 

Mrs.  Clymer  did  not  trouble  herself  about  under 
standing  much  of  such  details.  If  the  results  came 
round  to  her  in  their  successes,  like  the  yarn  from  the 
magic  ball  into  the  graded  tints  of  her  pretty  work,  it 
was  enough. 

Mr.  Clymer 's  affairs  were  growing  complicated. 
Greatly  enlarged  in  the  few  years  since  her  first  ac 
quaintance  with  him,  she  could  not  expect  to  compre 
hend  them  all.  The  original  occupation  in  trade  which 
had  been  the  foundation  of  his  prosperity  had  been 
gradually  given  over  to  other  hands,  he  retaining  only 
a  certain  capital  interest ;  and  brokering  and  banking, 
joint-stock  operations  and  enterprises,  were  absorbing 
his  faculties  and  facilities,  and  thus  far  doubling  and 


WHICH  END   IS  THE  REMNANT  ?         157 

redoubling  his  ventures  and  investments.  His  wife  was 
satisfied  with  the  outline  of  facts.  When  he  talked  to 
her  of  business,  she  knitted  and  listened  and  smiled,  as 
likely  as  not  considering  in  her  mind  the  color,  cut,  and 
trimming  of  a  new  dress,  or  the  possibility  of  a  set  of 
jewels,  while  he  argued  chances,  proved  certainties,  and 
reckoned  percentages.  All  she  asked  to  know  was  the 
how  much  he  was  putting  in,  and  the  how  much  he 
would  get  out. 

To-night,  she  heard  the  words  "architects' estimates, " 
"specifications,"  "contracts,"  "sub-contracts,"  "mar 
gin  for  overrun,"  etc.,  etc.,  as  so  many  merely  mechani 
cal  minutiae  which  concerned  only  the  competent,  re 
sponsible  parties,  as  the  stitching  of  her  gowns  was 
the  concern  of  her  dressmaker.  She  took  the  subject, 
like  that,  in  its  final  effect ;  complacent  that  her  hus 
band  was  the  leader  and  organizer  of  weighty  undertak 
ings,  the  substantial  carrying  out  of  which  was  to  bear 
witness,  in  this  instance,  to  his  consequence,  before  her 
very  windows,  in  the  sight  of  all  Mount  Street. 

She  had  no  least  idea  of  how  Estabel  Charlock  was 
listening,  trying  to  comprehend,  and  was  swaying  to  a 
moral  judgment  of  all  these  things,  as  question  and  an 
swer  developed  their  method  and  intent  in  the  conver 
sation  about  her. 

Dr.  North  stayed  by,  evidently  held  by  interest  in 
the  renewed  discussion.  That  was  simply  natural,  for 
a  man,  she  thought,  and  Mr.  Clymer's  nephew. 

"All  under  one  inclusive  contract?"  she  heard  him 
ask. 

"Yes.  Brace  and  Buckle  take  the  whole.  Then 
they  sub-let,  in  jobs,  to  builders.  With  all  that  we 
have  nothing  to  do.  Thoroughgood  and  Strong  wanted 
it,  but  Brace  and  Buckle  underbid ;  a  difference  of  nine 
thousand." 

"And  then  there  comes  a  second  question  of  lowest 
bids,  with  the  mechanics,  I  suppose.  Goes  through 


158  SQUARE  PEGS. 

two  sieves,  if  not  more.  Chance  for  some  losing  on 
the  way,  isn't  there?  " 

"Always  that,  of  course,  if  people  don't  look  out. 
It  's  for  every  man  to  see  to  for  himself." 

Estabel  searched  Dr.  North's  face  for  the  understand 
ing  of  this,  which  was  heyond  her  grasp.  She  saw  a 
hard  half  smile  curl  his  lips  downward  at  the  corners. 
She  knew  he  despised  something;  she  wondered  what. 
She  saved  that  wonder  up  till  she  should  see  him  next, 
and  could  make  a  question  of  it.  The  present  opportu 
nity  was  nearly  over. 

Mr.  Henslee  looked  at  his  watch.  "Well,  Harry?  " 
he  said,  and  rose.  In  ten  minutes  the  visitors  were  all 
gone,  and  the  family  in  their  rooms. 

The  next  time  came  next  day.  Estabel  met  Dr. 
North  on  Mount  Street  as  she  turned  Linden  Street 
corner,  coming  back  from  a  shopping  errand. 

"I  hope  you  are  coming  in,"  she  said,  as  they  walked 
down  the  long  block  together. 

"Not  this  time,"  he  answered.  "I've  a  call  to 
make  and  then  an  office  appointment.  A  doctor  isn't 
his  own  man." 

"I  've  been  wondering  if  anybody  's  his  own  man.  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  a'  question.  It  was  about  the  talk 
last  night.  What  are  those  contracts?  And  what  do 
they  mean  by  '  lowest  bids  '  ?  And  why  must  anybody 
lose  ?  " 

"That  is  a  big  subject.  A  contract  is  an  agreement, 
to  furnish  a  certain  material,  or  to  do  a  certain  piece 
of  work  in  a  certain  way,  for  a  certain  price.  The 
people  who  want  the  material,  or  to  have  the  work  done, 
call  for  bids ;  the  man  who  will  undertake  the  business 
for  the  least  money  gets  the  bargain.  Then,  if  it  's  a 
large  affair,  he  calls  for  other  bids,  for  separate  parts, 
and  gives  them  out  again  at  the  lowest  price.  Probably 
if  he  has  had  to  underbid  riskily  himself,  he  must  make 
it  up,  if  he  can,  by  cheapening  the  jobs  under  him." 


WHICH  END  IS  THE  REMNANT?          159 

"And  then  what  do  they  do  —  the  jobbers  ?  " 

"Scamp  the  work  —  sometimes  —  unless  they  're 
watched  too  sharply.  Or  cheapen  the  material.  Or 
make  an  honest  bad  business  of  it  for  themselves,  and 
go  under." 

"Seems  to  me  it  is  a  plan  to  make  bad  business,  all 
through.  Isn't  there  any  other  way?  " 

"There  's  work  by  the  day,  but  that  is  always 
costly.  When  people  are  paid  for  time,  they  are  very 
likely  to  take  time." 

"  Is  every  kind  of  work  like  that  ?  And  every  kind 
of  business  ?  Is  everybody  trying  to  get  it  out  of  the 
others  ?  And  is  that  how  people  grow  rich  ?  " 

Estabel  poured  the  questions  forth  impetuously. 
They  were  coming  near  their  own  corner. 

"It  is  impossible  to  make  a  general  statement  cover 
all  that,"  said  Dr.  Ulick.  "That  involves  the  whole 
moral  and  practical  history  of  trade  and  human  service, 
and  all  the  problems  of  political  economy." 

"I  should  think  it  involved  the  whole  New  Testa 
ment  and  the  Ten  Commandments, "  said  Estabel  gravely. 
"Are  n't  you  glad  you  are  a  doctor?  " 

"That 's  a  good  deal  like  the  old  lady  who  said  it 
took  all  sorts  of  people  to  make  the  world,  and  she  was 
terrible  glad  she  wasn't  one  of  'em,"  said  the  doctor, 
smiling.  "Why  should  I  be  glad  to  be  a  doctor?  " 

They  Avere  now  at  the  marble  steps  of  No.  84. 

"Because  you  really  do  your  best  every  time,  and 
you  just  get  paid  for  that." 

"Don't  think  too  well  of  us.  We  get  paid  for  our 
time,  too.  It  's  often  a  little  too  easy  to  extend  the 
account." 

"I  don't  believe" — Estabel  began1;  but  she  could 
not  tell  that  man  to  his  face  what  she  did  not  think  him 
capable  of.  And  just  then  Archibald  answered  her  ring. 

She  turned  upon  the  steps  as  Dr.  North  lifted  his 
hat.  He  was  always  carefully  polite. 


160  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"  I  think  I  know  one  thing,  now, "  she  said,  looking 
down  at  him. 

"What  is  that?"  he  asked;  his  raised  hat  and  lin 
gering  attitude  marking  the  interrogation. 

"Where  the  '  Remnant  '  comes.  I  think  it  must  he 
at  the  twelve  per  cent,  interest  end." 

As  Dr.  North  walked  down  the  street  he  said  to  him 
self,  "I  wonder  if  she  will  think  so  if  ever  a  twelve  per 
cent,  interest  comes  into  her  hands.  The  world  is  a 
test  crucible." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    GLADMOTHEB. 

"GLADMOTHER  will  be  sitting  among  her  rainbows." 

"What  is  it  you  call  her?" 

"Gladmother.  When  I  was  little  I  couldn't  say 
'  Grand.'  I  had  to  leave  out  the  '  n, '  and  turn  the  '  r  ' 
into  an  ;  1. '  So  it  made  just  what  she  ought  to  be 
called,  you  see;  you  will  see;  and  we've  kept  it  up. 
But  we  don't  call  her  so  except  among  ourselves." 

"Thank  you,  dear." 

And  then  Lilian,  who  held  Estabel's  arm  as  they 
walked  along  Shawme  Street,  gave  it  a  warm  little 
squeeze. 

It  was  a  Sunday  afternoon.  Estabel  had  only  once 
been  in  the  Hawtrees'  house,  and  then  half  accidentally, 
so  that  there  had  been  but  a  brief  stop  and  talk.  She 
would  not  sit  down  and  visit,  until  she  had  leave  from 
her  own  home.  Now  she  had  been  made  condition 
ally  free.  "I  don't  care,  so  long  as  you  don't  mix 
things,"  Mrs.  Clymer  had  said.  "And  so  long  as  you 
don't  give  up  everything  else." 

Aunt  Vera  could  not  have  been  more  diplomatic  if 
she  had  intended  diplomacy  of  the  farthest-reaching 
sort.  Estabel  could  have  had  no  more  impelling  motive 
for  considering  her  aunt's  pleasure  in  other  directions 
and  on  other  occasions,  which  were  pretty  certain  to  be 
comparatively  exceptional,  than  her  appreciation  of  this 
accordance  of  liberty  for  what  she  began  to  call  to  her 
self  her  "every-day  times." 

She  had  not  seen  the  Gladmother  among  her  rain- 


162  SQUARE  PEGS. 

bows.  As  yet  she  knew  her  chiefly  through  Lilian's 
portrayal  and  quotation,  and  the  peculiar  reflection  in 
Lilian  herself  of  beautiful  and  gracious  influence  that  it 
was  plain  had  come  to  her  no  otherwise  than  by  this 
nearness  and  dearness  of  beautiful  and  gracious  life. 

Lilian  took  her  friend  straight  upstairs  to-day.  In  a 
room  that  looked  to  south  and  west  —  warm  in  winter 
from  the  unbroken  sunlight  and  cool  in  summer  from 
the  unobstructed  river  breezes  —  they  came  upon  a  sweet 
ness  and  a  presence  of  which  even  every  inanimate  thing 
therein  was  full. 

There  was  very  little  that  seemed  inanimate.  Only 
the  needful  supports,  and  appliances  of  chairs,  tables, 
bed,  water-stand,  that  having  each  its  own  office  to 
render  belonged  directly  to  use  and  life,  and  being  for 
their  respective  purposes  of  the  most  absolute  simple 
fitness  and  daintiness,  became  symbolic ;  representative 
not  through  show  of  luxury  or  fancy,  but  through  pure 
relation,  of  all  freshness,  sweetness,  and  repose.  One 
passed  them  over  in  regard,  as  one  does  the  features  of 
a  pleasant,  harmonious  face,  only  gathering  from  them 
their  full  expression  of  the  finer  things  of  very  life  itself. 

In  the  windows  were  baskets,  not  pots,  of  ferns; 
these  stood  over  china  jars,  into  which  the  water 
dripped  with  which  they  were  frequently  and  generously 
showered,  to  their  beautiful  delight ;  this  constant 
drainage,  like  that  natural  to  them  in  their  woodland 
nooks  by  stream  sides,  rooted  in  light,  spongy  soil 
among  the  mossy  rocks,  kept  them  as  under  the  spray 
and  plash  of  a  waterfall,  always  moist,  but  never  sod 
den.  "I  could  not  let  my  ferns  be  homesick,"  the 
Gladmother  would  say. 

Their  delicate  springing  fronds  were  lifted  high  until 
the  slender  stems  could  no  longer  sustain  uprightness, 
and  then  they  drooped  until  of  themselves  they  made 
a  green  cascade  from  stand  to  floor.  Maiden-hairs,  in 
side  brackets,  from  which,  in  turn,  superfluous  moisture 


THE  GLADMOTHER.  163 

trickled  to  the  fern  baskets  underneath,  rounded  their 
plumes  into  clouds  of  tenclerest  mingled  shades ;  the 
little  outspread  palms  of  their  myriad  leaflets  showing 
deep  green  in  their  hollows,  and  a  golden  life-tint  at 
their  infinitely  tiny  finger-tips.  Small  pots  of  violets 
and  mignonette  were  hidden  in  the  greenery,  and  the 
sweet  smell  of  them  was  in  the  air. 

"  She  manages  to  keep  them  all  the  year  round, "  said 
Lilian. 

"I  don't  try  to  cultivate  difficult  flowers,"  the  Glad- 
mother  said.  "Ferns  are  always  here  and  always  beau 
tiful;  an  open  window  is  as  good  to  them  as  all  out 
doors ;  they  only  want  light  and  water,  and  enough 
fresh  air  to  breathe.  When  the  sun  is  full  upon  them 
I  draw  those  little  green  screens  behind  them,  and  let 
my  sunbeams  come  in  above,  as  I  may  want  them.  I 
never  shut  them  wholly  out  if  I  can  possibly  help  it, 
because  I  want  my  rainbows. " 

In  each  window  a  silken  cord  was  suspended  midwise 
from  a  hook,  its  two  ends  holding  tassels  of  prismatic  crys 
tal  ;  richly  faceted  balls  and  drops  that  had  once  adorned 
some  grand  old  chandelier.  The  cord  could  be  slipped 
at  pleasure  to  raise  and  lower  these  clear  refractors  to 
such  points  in  the  light  as  would  let  them  scatter  their 
wonderful  radiances  most  charmingly.  The  Gladmo- 
ther  knew  well  where  she  loved  best  to  have  them  touch 
and  linger  in  the  room  about  her. 

In  a  quiet  corner  stood  an  old-fashioned  easy  chair 
with  high,  cushioned  sides  and  back,  in  which  one  felt 
instinctively  some  dear  invalid  must  many  a  time  have 
rested ;  perhaps  some  long  fading  life,  tenderly  minis 
tered  to,  have  lingered  itself  peacefully  away.  Beside 
it  stood  a  little  table,  whose  top  could  be  turned  round 
across  the  chair  front.  On  this  were  a  cup  and  plate, 
a  little  cordial  glass  and  silver  spoon,  and  an  old-fash 
ioned  heavy  watch  with  fob  chain  and  seal,  hung  to  a 
silver  tripod  stand. 


164  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Somebody  had  used  and  hallowed  the  things;  they 
stood  here,  sacred.  The  watch,  kept  faithfully  wound, 
ticked  away  the  time  until,  perhaps,  the  other  appoint 
ments  might  again  be  made  last  use  of,  in  love  and  holy 
memorial.  It  was  like  a  little  Sacrament  table. 

Upon  the  wall  above  the  chair  there  was  a  picture,  — 
the  lovely  face  of  a  woman.  Young,  tender,  serene. 
Estabel  guessed,  what  Lilian  told  her  later,  that  it  was 
the  picture  of  the  mother  who  had  died  long  years  before. 

A  shaft  of  rainbow  light  shot  in  broken  gleams  almost 
from  floor  to  ceiling  up  through  the  quiet  corner.  It 
touched  the  chair  foot  with  a  crimson  flame ;  it  rested 
on  the  top,  where  a  head  might  rest,  in  soft,  clear 
amber ;  above  the  sweet  face  in  the  picture  it  quivered 
from  out  the  shadowy  background  in  a  violet  bloom  that 
shaped  itself  like  the  petals  of  a  purple  flower.  Be 
low  or  beside  this  shimmered  a  soft  green ;  underneath 
flashed  a  keen  fire  sparkle  of  pure  gold.  Something  — 
a  candlestick  upon  the  corner  of  a  chiffonier,  which 
betrayed  its  intervention  by  a  burnish  of  strange  color 
—  had  caught  back  fragments  of  the  ray,  so  that  it  shiv 
ered  at  last  into  this  wonderful  semblance  that  painted 
itself  symbolically  upon  the  canvas.  The  glory-blossom 
lay  close  above  the  clustering  hair;  it  seemed  to  set 
itself  gently  among  the  rimpled  locks;  it  was  a  flower 
and  a  star  together. 

"Mamma  has  got  a  pansy  in  her  hair,"  said  Lilian. 

"It  comes  there  every  day,"  answered  the  Glad- 
mother  tenderly. 

Over  on  the  white  pillows  of  the  bed  were  dropped 
faint,  sweet  flushes  of  pink,  as  if  rose  leaves  had  been 
scattered ;  and  across  upon  the  farther  wall  the  rest  of 
the  beautiful  chord  declared  itself,  — •  the  fire  tints,  and 
the  saffron  and  the  beryl.  Overhead  was  a  long,  slender 
pencil  of  the  perfect  hues,  from  faintest  rose  to  melting 
amethyst ;  here  and  there  were  disks  and  dashes  de 
tached  and  separate ;  they  fell  on  floor,  on  furnishings, 


THE  GLADMOTHER.  165 

on  any  little  thing  that  was  in  the  sun-path;  sometimes 
like  molten  drops,  sometimes  like  living  tongues  of 
flame.  One  tender  little  gleam  kissed  the  rim  of  Glad- 
mother's  cap  and  the  silver  of  her  folded  hair,  and  she 
did  not  know  it  until  Lilian  told  her.  On  the  open  page 
of  her  large-print  Prayer  Book  that  lay  beside  her,  had 
come  an  illumination  of  pure,  vivid  blue ;  strangely 
enough  —  if  anything  is  ever  strange  that  happens  to 
the  touching  of  our  higher  apprehension  —  flooding  the 
text  of  message  and  gospel  for  Trinity  Sunday  so  lately 
past,  whose  word  the  Gladmother  dearly  loved  to  turn 
to  the  year  round,  —  where  the  sea  of  glass,  and  the  seven 
lamps  of  fire  burning  before  the  throne,  and  the  rainbow 
like  an  emerald  round  about,  and  the  pavement  of  sap 
phire  as  the  body  of  heaven  in  his  clearness,  are  written- 
of  and  brought  to  mind. 

Nothing  was  strange ;  it  was  all  most  beautifully, 
naturally  accordant ;  but  when  Estabel  saw  the  splendid 
transparent  color  on  the  book,  and  came  near  and  read, 
the  lines  were  as  instant  and  miraculous  revelation. 

"Why,  the  light  is  what  the  words  say!  "  she  ex 
claimed.  "They  were  read  only  the  other  Sunday,  and 
I  hardly  noticed !  It  seems  as  if  the  sign  had  come 
straight  down!  " 

The  Gladmother  smiled.  "That  is  what  I  always 
think, "  she  said ;  "  and  why  I  love  so  to  let  the  rain 
bows  in.  But  I  don't  think  so  much  of  their  coming 
doivn,  as  of  their  shining  out.  Colors  and  sweet  smells 
just  breathe  and  flash  from  the  life  behind,  that  we 
don't  see,  or  know  ourselves  alive  in." 

"Oh,  that's  just  what  puzzles  me,"  said  Estabel. 
"  Where  do  we  live  ?  " 

"You  've  lived  in  the  country,  haven't  you?  "  asked 
the  Gladmother.  "Well,  how  does  the  city  seem?  " 

"I  think  it  seems  as  if  it  had  no  inside  to  it.  You 
can't  get  in  under  the  bricks.  What  is  underneath  the 
stones  and  behind  the  show  ?  " 


166  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Just  what  is  everywhere,  under  and  inside  of  every 
thing.  It  is  the  Heart- World." 

''Who  knows  anything  about  it?  " 

"Ah,  that 's  the  question.  That 's  what  Nicodemus 
wanted  to  know,  and  didn't  even  know  he  wanted  it. 
We  've  got  to  have  two  kinds  of  sight,  and  two  kinds 
of  hearing,  and  two  kinds  of  feeling.  And  yet  it  has 
got  to  be  all  one,  seen  and  heard  and  felt  together ; 
as  our  two  eyes  and  our  two  ears  see  and  hear  together, 
and  our  outside  touch  joins  to  our  inside  understand 
ing." 

"Well,  I  guess  there  are  a  good  many  people  deaf 
and  blind  and  sick  of  the  palsy." 

"  So  there  were  when  the  Word  came  —  and  the 
Light  —  and  the  Power.  He  opened  their  eyes  and 
their  ears,  and  He  sent  his  life  through  their  dead  bod 
ies.  He  does  it  now.  He  is  doing  it  all  the  time ; 
because  He  is  alive,  in  the  Heart- World,  and  we  are 
alive  by  Him.  Don't  you  remember  how  He  touched 
the  eyes  of  the  blind  man  twice  ?  He  opened  first  the 
outside  sight,  and  then  the  inside.  First,  the  man  only 
saw  other  men  as  trees  walking;  and  then  he  saw  every 
man  clearly.  That's  the  way  the  world  —  and  the 
people  —  look  to  us,  while  we  only  half  see  —  just 
things,  and  a  life  among  things,  until  we  get  into  the 
Heart- World,  and  live  in  the  spirit." 

The  two  young  girls  sat  quiet.  The  words,  so  sim 
ply  spoken,  were  great  with  a  deep  experience,  and 
touched  them  in  their  deepest,  hardly  conscious  nature. 
The  dear  old  lady  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  say  more. 
Whenever  she  spoke  in  this  wise,  it  was  always  as  if 
something  said  itself  Something  beyond  her  uttered 
it.  The  ignorant  apostles  spoke  with  tongues. 

" '  In  all  these  things  is  the  visitation  of  thy  spirit, '  ' 
she  repeated  softly,    a  minute  or   two  after.       "Colors 
and  sounds  and  pleasant  smells  and  tastes  are  all  just 
next  to  the  heavenly.      They  are  fine  and  tender;   you 


THE  GLADMOTHER.  167 

can't  take  hold  of  them.  They  are  the  secrets  of  our 
Father,  the  thoughts  of  Him  toward  us.  Our  five 
senses  are  doors  into  holy  chambers.  The  sweeter  the 
secrets  are,  the  tenderer  they  show  and  feel.  What 
are  flowers  born  out  of?  They  are  made  into  something 
that  will  hardly  bear  a  touch.  They  just  open  into 
sight  witli  the  least  making  that  we  can  possibly  see 
them  by.  Look  through  a  rose  leaf.  It  is  nothing  but 
small  dew  and  color.  I  don't  know  the  philosophy  of 
it ;  but  I  think  the  flowers  and  leaves  are  of  the  nature 
of  my  prisms,  only  a  thousand  times  more  delicate ; 
their  whole  substance  is  of  little  water  crystals  set  to 
gether  to  catch  every  one  its  own  particular  kind  of 
light,  and  show  us  how  beautiful  it  can  be,  with  the 
thought-heauty  of  bright  red  and  soft  yellow  and  purple 
and  blue  and  green.  I  think  it  is  something,  actually, 
of  the  light  of  the  Heavenly  City.  And  when  I  smell 
a  violet,  I  think  it  is  alive  with  the  air  the  angels 
breathe." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Trubin,  if  people  lived  like  that  it 
would  be  heaven !  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Gladmother  Trubin  quietly;  "that  is 
what  it 's  meant  to  be.  'The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at 
hand.' ' 

"I  wish,  then,"  said  Estabel  after  a  little  silence, 
"there  needn't  be  so  many  outsides.  They  're  a  great 
bother.  They  're  always  in  the  way.  You  can't  get 
rid  of  them." 

All  Estabel' s  difficulties  came  rushing  like  eager 
applicants  for  some  suddenly  presented  relief.  They 
all  wanted  answer. 

"  I  think  you  mean  false  outsides, "  said  the  Glad- 
mother. 

"I  suppose  I  do.  They're  all  mixed  up.  I  think 
they  're  worst  of  all  in  church,  where  you  go  to  get 
inside.  You  know  they  have  no  business,  and  it 's 
wicked.  You  want  to  leave  them  out  and  you  can't. 


168  SQUARE  PEGS. 

You  can't  get  inside,  nor  stay.  There  they  all  are,  — 
the  bonnets  and  the  gowns  and  the  nice  gloves  holding 
the  Prayer  Books,  and  the  way  people  do  their  hair. 
I  'm  always  noticing ;  and  then  the  words  slip  away 
and  are  gone,  and  the  chance  is  over,  and  I  haven't 
realized  anything  at  all.  Down  there  hy  the  river  the 
other  day,  the  Te  Deum  and  the  Psalm  just  came  to 
me.  They  were  in  the  water  and  the  air  and  the 
sunshine." 

"God's  outsides.  Yes.  We  make  our  own,  a  great 
deal  too  much.  They  crowd  his  out.  That 's  what  the 
Second  Commandment  is  against.  Some  outsides  we 
have  to  make.  But  we  needn't  stop  in  them.  We 
need  n't  fall  down  and  worship  them.  When  human 
souls  are  together,  especially  in  church,  I  think  they 
might  rememher  that  underneath  clothes  —  and  bodies 

—  are  hearts  and  lives,  and  the  world  they  make  and 
belong  to  —  all  their  wants  and  wishes,  and  pains  and 
gladness,    and    troubles    and    loves  —  a    great    moving, 
breathing  world  of  spirits  —  the  real  world  —  in  which 
the  Father  of  spirits  dwells  with  us,  and  where  we  find 
Him   face   to   face.      If   you   could   feel   into  all  that, 
you  'd  realize  the  words,  wouldn't  you?  " 

"Oh,  yes!  If  people  would!  If  you  knew  they  did 
all  round  you.  But  you  know  they  don't." 

"How?" 

"Just  by  your  own  not  feeling.  You  couldn't  help 
it  if  they  did." 

"I  am  not  sure  about  that.  Even  if  they  were  all 
blind,  they  are  there;  and  the  Lord  looks  upon  the 
heart  of  every  one  of  them.  At  any  rate,  there  's  the 
help  in  the  very  prayers.  It 's  all  provided  for.  '  From 
all  blindness  of  heart  '  —  from  not  seeing  in,  and  feel 
ing,  together  — '  from  pride,  vain  glory,  and  hypocrisy  ' 

—  the  things  that  hinder  —  '  Good  Lord,  deliver  us !  ' 
"I  think  it  would  be  good  to  keep  saying  that  all  the 

time." 


THE   GLADMOTHER.  169 

"One  can.  There  is  always  some  one  thing  we  need 
especially ;  and  remembering  it  all  through  helps  all 
the  rest." 

"You  know  how  to  go  to  church,  Mrs.  Trubin!  " 

"Maybe  I  've  learned  more  about  it  since  I  couldn't 
go." 

"Do  people  always  have  to  learn  things  at  the  wrong 
time?  I  beg  your  pardon —  I  didn't  mean  you  —  but 
I  always  seem  to. " 

"There  isn't  ever  a  wrong  time,  except  the  times  we 
make  wrong.  Everything  will  fit  together  —  in  the 
Lord's  time.  We  live  in  little  bits.  But  we  are  to 
bring  the  pieces  to  Him.  He  knows  what  to  do  with 
them;  even  the  pieces  we  have  broken." 

"The  Remnants,"  said  Estabel  thoughtfully. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

ROSES    AND    RHODODENDRONS. 

ESTABEL  and  Lilian  had  walked  down  across  Old 
Park.  There  was  an  errand  at  a  thread  store,  but 
there  was  no  hurry  about  that.  They  could  have  an 
hour  together  if  they  chose ;  they  would  do  their  errand 
first,  and  the  rest  should  be  pure  enjoyment. 

It  could  hardly  be  else,  anywhere,  that  summer  day. 
The  world,  even  the  city  world,  was  beautiful.  The  very 
smell  of  the  streets,  as  the  great  water  carts  sprinkled 
them  freshly,  was  a  reminder  of  sweet  open  earth  after 
a  shower;  and  here  in  the  Park  the  greenness  and  the 
quietness  were  something  kept  sacred  from  all  confusing 
and  "covering  up  "  with  which  the  city  could  offend. 

They  were  happy,  as  two  girls  in  a  young,  intimate 
friendship  only  are ;  in  a  simple  frankness  of  delight, 
untouched  by  any  disquietude,  uncertainty,  or  mystery, 
that  may  stir  an  after  experience ;  when  they  are  in  the 
morning  together,  and  all  the  day  looks  dewy-fresh  and 
clear. 

Lilian's  crutch  was  a  thing  of  weeks  past.  It  was  so 
good,  she  said,  to  have  two  feet  again,  instead  of  three. 
And  Estabel  laughed,  and  called  her  "Goody  Two- 
Shoes.  " 

In  the  Lower  Mall  they  met  Dr.  North. 

"Going  to  see  the  roses,  young  ladies?  "  he  asked 
them  as  he  greeted  them  pleasantly. 

"  Eoses  ?     Where  ?  "  said  Estabel. 

"Why,  right  over  here  where  everybody  is  going 
to-day.  In  the  Hall  of  Plants.  Roses  and  rhododen 
drons.  If  you  '11  come,  I  '11  show  you." 


ROSES   AND   RHODODENDRONS.  171 

So  he  led  them  along,  across  the  wide  avenue,  and 
into  the  large  open  vestibule  of  the  Hall  building. 
People  stood  there  in  groups,  meeting  by  appointment 
or  by  accident,  chatting  and  bowing,  buying  tickets, 
proceeding  in  detachments  or  singly  up  the  short,  wide 
staircase. 

Halfway,  as  Dr.  North  and  the  two  young  girls  as 
cended  in  their  turn,  their  movement  was  checked  by 
a  stoppage  at  the  upper  doorway.  A  lady  behind  them 
had  put  her  foot  upon  the  step  they  had  reached  when 
the  slight  backward  surge  of  the  temporary  crowd 
obliged  them  to  give  way.  Estabel  felt  herself  pushed 
against  and  displacing  some  one.  She  turned,  as  well 
as  she  could,  to  apologize.  "I'm  very  sorry,"  she 
said.  "I  could  not  help  it." 

"  Of  course  you  could  not, "  a  pleasant  voice  an 
swered  ;  and  Estabel  smiled,  not  directly  at  the  speaker, 
for  whom  the  smile  was  meant,  but  from  the  constraint 
of  her  position  right  into  the  cold,  ignoring  face  of 
Corinna  Chilstone,  accompanying  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Brith- 
waite,  the  same  lady  who  had  liked  Pen  Westington 
for  being  so  cordial. 

"Didn't  you  know  that  young  girl?  "  Estabel  heard 
Mrs.  Brithwaite  ask  presently,  as  they  gained  the  top 
and  stood  within  the  entrance  door  from  the  landing, 
while  the  others  were  still  detained  at  the  collector's 
table.  "I  thought  she  recognized  you,  and  that  I  had 
seen  her  face  before." 

"Very  likely.  She  goes  to  Mr.  Satterwood's,  I  be 
lieve.  But  you  don't  know  a  girl  just  because  you 
happen  to  go  to  the  same  school  with  her.  In  Top- 
thorpe  we  are  apt  to  have  seen  almost  anybody's  face 
before." 

"Oh!  I  suppose  so.  And  one  can't  have  all  of 
everything;  there's  a  good  deal  of  the  best  that  gets 
missed,  no  doubt, f'  returned  Mrs.  Brithwaite. 

To  which  keen  little  speech  Corinna  made  no  answer. 


172  SQUARE  PEGS. 

She  did  not  always  find  it  quite  easy  to  answer  Aunt 
Brithwaite ;  neither  was  she  always  altogether  comfort 
able  with  her,  though  she  liked  to  be  seen  with  her, 
and  was  particular  to  call  her  "Aunt  Brithu-aite," 
rather  than  "Aunt  Frances,"  because  she  was  an  ex- 
governor's  widow,  and  not  simply  Mrs.  Chilstone's 
sister. 

The  dock  grows  beside  the  nettle.  The  kindness 
veiled  in  the  rebuke  neutralized  the  virulence  of  the 
sting.  Estabel  felt  actually  grateful  for  the  one  in  the 
comfort  of  the  other.  Even  a  nettle  has  its  involuntary 
relative  use.  And  yet  only  a  donkey  can  love  a  thistle. 

But  she  forgot  it  all  as  they  came  into  that  world  of 
sweetness  and  light.  There  was  nothing  of  this  best 
that  she  need  miss.  The  key  of  its  inner  revelation 
had  been  given  her. 

"I  am  so  glad  we  had  that  talk  with  the  Gladmother 
before  we  came  here, "  she  whispered  to  Lilian.  And 
then  neither  of  them  spoke  again  for  many  minutes. 

A  broad  passageway  ran  round  —  if  one  may  say 
round  —  the  long  oval  which  occupied  the  middle  of  the 
floor.  This  was  formed  of  benches,  tier  above  tier,  filled 
with  the  loveliest  blooms.  The  lower  range  was  all  of 
pansies,  —  a  crowd  of  leaning,  nodding,  laughing  little 
flower  faces,  beautiful  in  purples,  in  gold  and  citron 
and  amber,  in  bronzy  brown  and  palest  straw  color,  in 
pure  white  with  golden  hearts  and  purple  dashes  at  their 
petal  bases,  in  velvety  black,  in  faint,  sweet  lavender; 
from  all  the  subtle  breath  arising  that  like  a  whisper  of 
perfume  one  had  to  bend  down  to  catch  and  distinguish 
from  more  accented  fragrances.  Above  these  were 
banked  the  heliotropes,  in  shaded  ripeness  of  soft  color, 
from  the  least  tint  of  violet  to  the  deepest  amethyst ; 
clouded  and  mixed  in  their  arrangement,  showing  in 
relief  of  the  strong,  rich  leafage ;  exhaling  a  redundance 
of  delicious  odor ;  holding  the  eye  in  a  pause  of  satisfied 
rest,  and  the  sense  in  a  dream  of  luxuriousness,  before 


ROSES  AND   RHODODENDRONS.  173 

they  should  be  lifted  to  the  supreme  sweetness,  the  royal 
magnificence  of  the  queen  of  flowers.  The  topmost  level 
was  the  throne  of  the  Roses. 

"Eyes  left,"  said  the  doctor,  as  they  passed  slowly 
around  with  the  throng.  "Don't  look  at  the  other 
side  yet.  Take  in  each  thing  by  turn.  It  's  like  read 
ing  a  book.  You  don't  want  to  skip,  or  see  what  's 
coming. " 

Indeed,  they  had  no  wish,  except  that  the  congrega 
tion  might  file  past  even  more  slowly. 

Every  rose  that  had  ever  learned  to  bloom,  or  that 
horticulture  yet  knew,  seemed  there ;  names  were  use 
less,  even  if  they  could  be  known ;  one  only  thought  of 
the  wondrous,  varied  miracle ;  of  the  mysterious  choice 
by  which  each  took  its  own  glorious  or  dainty  color ; 
how  the  rich,  brilliant  crimson  drew  the  wine  of  its 
splendid  life  into  apparition ;  how  the  sunshine  sphered 
itself  in  the  bright  yellow;  how  it  softened  as  to  twi 
light  beauty  in  the  delicate  sulphur  and  saffron;  how 
the  tender  blushing  rose,  the  native,  individual,  primal 
hue,  asserted  itself  sweetly  in  the  midst  of  all,  lovely, 
lovable  as  ever;  how  the  long  tea-buds  bowed  their 
heads  in  very  fullness,  modest  in  exquisite  sheathing  of 
cream,  or  verd- white,  or  buff,  or  coral-pink  petals ;  how 
their  little  message  was  breathed  subtly  in  an  aroma 
which  no  other  knew,  as  if  it  were  a  specially  intrusted 
secret ;  how  they  were  all  so  different,  and  yet  every 
one  was  a  Rose. 

"  How  does  it  all  come  so  ?  " 

Estabel  hardly  asked  the  question;  it  escaped  her; 
but  Dr.  North  was  at  her  side,  and  thought  she  spoke 
to  him. 

"The  laws  of  life  —  of  growth,  assimilation,  adapta 
tion.  Men  study  them,  and  try  experiments  —  encour 
agement  and  selection  in  various  lines ;  differentiation 
and  development  follow.  There  scarcely  seems  any 
end  to  it." 


174  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"But  there  is  a  beginning.      It  must  have  all  been 
hid  away  —  the  possible  of  it  —  in  the  first  Rose." 
"Doubtless.      The  earth  itself  was  a  seed." 
"  Oh,  how  wonderful !      And   the  earth  brought  forth 
grass,  and  herb,  and  tree,  with  their  seeds  in  themselves. 
That  is  what  the  Bible  says." 

They  were  speaking  very  low,  standing  close  together 
with  the  crowd  about  them.  Other  voices  were  busy 
with  other  talk.  Dr.  North  said  no  more  for  a  mo 
ment  ;  but  almost  in  a  whisper,  Lilian  quoted,  " '  He 
giveth  it  a  body  as  it  hath  pleased  him ;  and  to  every 
seed  his  own  body.'  Gladmother  says  that  means  He 
planned  it  all  from  the  beginning  and  gives  it  every 
time." 

Dr.  North  looked  at  the  young  girl.  Her  simple 
faith  was  in  her  face. 

"That  is  a  very  happy  way  of  thinking,"  he  said  to 
her  gently.  But  he  spoke  as  if  from  outside  of  what 
she  meant.  And  of  course  they  could  not  go  far  with 
such  conversation  here  and  now. 

"We  have  got  round,"  he  told  them.  "Now  turn 
your  backs  upon  the  roses  and  see  the  opposite  side." 

They  had  known  that  a  great  mass  of  flowers  and 
foliage'  was  there.  But  they  had  resolutely  refrained 
from  mixing  their  impressions.  They  had  been  shown 
a  better  way.  Now  they  moved  into  line  on  the  right 
side  of  the  aisle,  and  came  full  upon  the  glory  that  was 
like  a  builded  wall  around  the  whole. 

The  crowd  was  thinning.  People  were  going  home 
to  dinner  and  to  other  engagements.  They  could  loiter; 
they  could  see  from  side  to  side.  The  entire  ellipse 
was  visible ;  lined  to  the  high  clerestory  windows  with 
the  glistening  green  of  the  laurel  leaves  and  the  clus 
tered  heads  of  gorgeous  bells  that  the  "  trees  of  roses  " 
bore. 

Neither  of  them  said  a  word.  The  word  was  all  in 
the  mute,  rich,  abundant  sign. 


ROSES  AND   RHODODENDRONS.  175 

Pure  masses  of  white,  sweetly  splendid  flushes  of 
rose,  deep  crimson  in  high  background  like  a  cathedral 
reredos,  all  supported  and  rilled  in  by  the  shiningly 
dense  foliage,  there  was  no  blank  nor  gap  nor  any  in 
completeness.  Strangest,  most  perfect  effect  of  all, 
there  was  seemingly  no  bound.  There  were  no  walls. 
It  was  a  forest,  whose  limit  was  simply  its  own  impen- 
etrableness.  Clerestory  and  glassed  roof  poured  down 
the  daylight  straight  from  a  blue  heaven. 

"Well?  "  said  Dr.  North  at  last.  "What  is  it  like, 
Estabel  ?  " 

"  Oh !  so  many  things  !  Like  a  great  oratorio  in  full 
chorus,  I  think.  I  was  listening  —  as  much  as  look 
ing.  " 

"Are  you  glad  you  came?  " 

"I  forgot  I  did  come.  It  seemed  as  if  somewhere 
—  wherever  I  was  —  it  all  appeared. " 

"Which  is  a  free  translation  of  what  people  mean 
when  they  say,  It  is  a  vision." 

"And  in  the  vision  they  always  hear  a  voice." 

"  I  suppose  there  is  a  language  in  everything ;  a 
music,  perhaps.  But  there  's  where  we  can't  penetrate. 
It  is  a  suggestion  —  an  imagination ;  one  thing  reminds 
us  of  another.  We  have  only  our  five  senses  to  prove 
anything  by,  and  they  are  limited." 

Estabel  did  not  answer,  but  she  thought  of  the  Glad- 
mother's  words  about  that. 

Presently  the  doctor  said,  "  But  we  must  go, "  and 
then  they  went  realistically  down  the  stairs  and  out 
into  the  street. 

They  all  crossed  the  Old  Park  together.  Home  to 
dinner  was  practical  fact.  Dr.  North  had  his  room 
and  office  in  West  Yarrow  Street,  at  the  corner  of 
Clover.  So  his  way  lay  along  with  theirs.  The  girls 
had  forgotten  their  braid  and  buttons. 

"  What  is  '  vision, '  Dr.  North  ?  "  asked  Estabel  sud 
denly. 


176  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"  Physically  or  metaphysically  ?  "  returned  the  doc 
tor. 

"What  is  the  difference?  " 

"Are  we  to  talk  altogether  in  interrogations?  "  The 
doctor  laughed. 

"Interrogations  expect  answers." 

"And  your  questions  have  the  initiative.  Well  — 
so  far  as  I  understand,  physics  deal  with  matter  and 
the  energies  of  matter;  metaphysics  with  something 
beyond,  or  behind." 

"Thank  you.      That  settles  it.      I  mean  both." 

"Both  together?  " 

"I  don't  see  how  they  can  be  separate.  One  means 
how,  and  the  other  why  — •  of  the  same  thing. " 

"  What  have  you  been  studying  ?  " 

"Nothing  new  —  out  of  books.  But  I  have  been 
seeing  things ;  and  I  want  to  know  what  you  think 
*  vision  '  means." 

"I  should  say  it  means  first  the  thing  pictured  to  the 
eye;  and  then  the  thing  as  pictured  by  the  eye  to  the 
brain;  the  impression  made  upon  the  sensorium." 

"Isn't  the  sensorium  a  thing,  too?  " 

"Matter,  yes;  a  constitution  of  matter  closely  con 
nected  with  the  immaterial;  with  what  we  call  '  mind.' 
There  we  have  to  stop." 

"Why?" 

"Because  we  cannot  investigate  the  immaterial." 

"  We  only  know  it  is  there  ?  " 

"We  only  know  that  we  come  to  where  we  know 
nothing. " 

"  Or  everything, "  said  Estabel  with  grave  simplicity. 

"  '  Babes  and  sucklings !  '  "  ejaculated  Dr.  North. 
"Perhaps  you  '11  tell  me  what,  in  your  seeing  of  things, 
yoii  have  got  at  ?  " 

"  Only  this,  "  said  P^stabel  ingenuously.  "  The  world 
is  so  alive.  And  things  mean  so  much.  They  make 
us  feel  and  think.  And  feeling  and  thinking  are  what 


ROSES  AND  RHODODENDRONS.  177 

living  is  for.  So  the  making  and  the  meaning  must  be 
the  very  inside  feeling  and  thinking  of  it  all.  Isn't 
it?" 

God,  and  his  word.  Dr.  North  had  never  had  it 
presented  to  him  quite  so  before. 

It  was  a  child's  perception,  a  child's  unstudied  ex 
pression  ;  but  it  went  as  deep  as  the  mystic  proem  to  the 
gospel  of  St.  John. 

Dr.  North  would  not  contradict  it.  His  materialism 
was  greatly  in  his  own  way,  but  he  would  not  puzzle 
this  fresh  nature  with  it  —  not  just  now,  at  any  rate. 

"That  opens  a  long  research  and  argument,"  he  said. 
"You  haven't  got  into  the  complications  yet.  I  think 
you  are  a  great  deal  better  off  just  where  you  are." 

"  I  am  just  as  happy  as  I  can  be !  "  said  Estabel,  with 
a  spring  in  her  voice.  "I  've  been  among  the  flowers 
—  and  the  rainbows !  " 

Was  that  pure  childish?  Dr.  North  wondered.  How 
much  would  she  probably  have  to  outgrow  ?  And  how 
long  would  it  take  her  ? 

Then  he  remembered  Mrs.  Trubin  and  her  rainbows, 
which  he  perceived  were  most  likely  just  what  Estabel 
had  meant.  And  Mrs.  Trubin  was  seventy- two  years 
old. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

ASPHODEL    AND    WATER    LILIES. 

"MAY  I  bring  my  dearest  friend  in  Topthorpe  to 
stay  with  me  in  Stillwick  ?  " 

That  was  the  question  Estabel  put  at  the  end  of  her 
letter  to  Aunt  Esther,  just  when  the  final  arrangements 
were  making  for  her  summer  visit. 

And  Miss  Charlock  wrote  back,  at  the  end  of  hers: 
"What  does  your  other  aunt  say?  You  know  I  don't 
meddle  with  any  of  your  Topthorpe  affairs." 

"I  know  it,  auntie,"  Estabel  rejoined.  "This  isn't 
Topthorpe  at  all,  though  it 's  in  Topthorpe.  It 's  a 
separate  thing.  Aunt  Vera  allowed  it  on  condition  of 
its  being  separate.  Lilian  has  nothing  to  do  with 
Mount  Street  or  Mr.  Satterwood's  or  Scalchi's.  She  's 
just  as  separate  as  she  can  be.  You  couldn't  mix  her 
up  with  them.  Stillwick  is  the  only  thing  that  is  good 
enough  for  her. " 

"  Chooty-choo !  "  ejaculated  Miss  Charlock  when  she 
read  that.  "Seems  to  me  valuations  have  risen  in  Still 
wick,  and  taxes  are  going  to  be  according."  But  her 
eyes  shone,  and  she  laughed,  and  her  last  note  accepted 
the  tax. 

Lilian  Hawtree  was  to  come.  Aunt  Esther  was  to 
be  in  Topthorpe  on  a  certain  Wednesday,  and  both  girls 
were  to  go  home  with  her.  Estabel 's  portmanteau  and 
a  handsome,  capacious  traveling-bag  with  which  Mrs. 
Clymer  had  provided  her  would  carry  all  she  would 
need  in  Stillwick.  Her  trunk,  full  of  newer  and  finer 
things,  would  go  to  Pequant  with  Aunt  Vera's  to  await 
her  coming  there  in  August. 


ASPHODEL  AND  WATER  LILIES.          179 

Aunt  Vera  had  offered  to  send  her  sister-in-law-in- 
law  and  Estabel  back  to  Stillwick  in  her  own  carriage; 
but  when  it  appeared  that  there  was  to  be  this  third 
passenger  she  accepted  Miss  Charlock's  announced  inten 
tion  of  arranging  the  little  journey  in  her  own  way,  not 
realizing  exactly  what  that  way  would  be. 

Miss  Charlock  arrived,  driven  by  Mr.  Simon  Peter 
Babson,  in  that  gentleman's  one-horse,  two-seated,  can 
vas-covered  wagon,  the  canvases  rolled  up  at  the  sides 
and  back,  as  befitted  the  summer  weather;  and  this 
primitive  equipage  drew  up  beside  the  marble  carriage 
block  in  front  of  84,  where  the  great  grays  and  the 
barouche  were  wont  to  stamp  and  glitter  in  the  eyes  of 
the  vicinage. 

Archibald  carried  out  the  bag  and  portmanteau. 
Mrs.  Clymer  kissed  Estabel  somewhat  hastily  in  the 
doorway,  and  then  retreated  to  hold  herself  on  edge,  as 
it  were,  till  Mr.  Babson's  "Gaw-wan!  "  sounded  per 
emptorily  to  his  "ewe-necked  bay, "  giving  time  between 
the  deliberate  syllables  for  equine  realization  and  com 
pliance  ;  and  the  slightly  rickety  wheels,  that  slanted 
leisurely  to  right  and  left  from  the  irksome  perpendicu 
lar,  rattled  with  twist  and  jerk  out  of  the  paved  gutter. 
Aunt  Vera  comforted  herself  with  the  recollection  that 
her  nearest  neighbors  were  already  out  of  town,  and 
that  up  and  down  the  street  blinds  and  shutters  were 
largely  sported  against  the  heat. 

Nobody  in  Mr.  Babson's  wagon  minded  the  heat  much 
that  afternoon.  Aunt  Esther  was  reticently  very  happy ; 
so  much  so  that  she  was  positively  glum  and  impassible 
in  outward  bearing,  and  left  the  talk  mostly  to  the  two 
young  girls  and  Simon  Peter  Babson,  who  entertained 
them  on  the  way  with  news  and  descriptions,  —  the  one 
for  Estabel,  coming  back  to  old  haunts  and  familiar 
associations,  the  other  for  her  friend,  strange  as  yet  to 
all  the  charm  and  consequence  of  Stillwick,  for  which  he 
held  himself  at  present  responsibly  representative. 


180  SQUARE  PEGS. 

As  to  these  two,  the  summer  breeze,  sweeping  through 
under  the  wagon  roof,  and  the  outspread  of  the  beauti 
ful  world  into  which  they  were  escaping,  neutralized  all 
oppression  of  the  July  day,  and  spared  them  all  impa 
tience  or  even  consciousness  of  the  slow,  clattering  pace 
at  which  they  were  drawn  along  by  the  lean  old  nag, 
who  seemed,  stretching  forward  his  scraggy  neck  as  into 
indefinite  distance,  to  strive  to  get  there  sooner  with 
his  head  than  with  his  heels,  and  needed  constantly  to 
be  supplied  with  dynamic  force  by  Simon  Peter's  me 
chanically  reiterated  "Ge-ed  —  up!  "  and  "Gaw-wan!  " 

They  had  called  in  Shawme  Street  for  Lilian;  it  was 
directly  on  their  way.  Her  modest  box  had  been  slipped 
in  under  the  seat  with  Estabel's  portmanteau.  Lilian 
herself  was  placed  behind  as  guest  with  Miss  Charlock, 
while  Estabel  took  the  front  beside  Mr.  Babson.  They 
waved  and  kissed  good-by  to  the  Gladmother,  standing 
half  hidden  among  her  ferns  at  her  side  window  that 
overlooked  the  gate  and  dooryard.  In  a  few  minutes 
more  they  were  on  the  long  bridge ;  and  then  they  left 
the  Shawme  behind  and  struck  off  through  the  edges  of 
Roystonport  and  Lexbridge,  and  by  and  by  into  Marsden 
Marches. 

With  the  first  plunge  into  the  Great  Marsden  Woods, 
through  which  the  high  road  lay,  with  the  first  smell  of 
the  azalea  blooms  floating  out  from  the  dark,  distant 
swamps,  began  the  ecstasy  of  the  new  life. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you,  Lilian?"  cried  Estabel  trium 
phantly. 

"No  —  you  didn't.  You  couldn't.  It  had  to  tell 
itself. " 

Simon  Peter  understood,  in  his  homely  way.  "Them 
pinks  is  ojerous, "  he  said  complacently.  "Thiz  a 
place  out  here,  a  ways,  where  we  can  git  some." 

"They  '11  wilt,"  said  Miss  Charlock. 

"No,  they  won't.  I  won't  let  'em.  I  've  kerried 
'em  home  afore  now.  You  won't  mind  a  little  wet 


ASPHODEL  AND   WATER  LIMES.  181 

moss  under  foot,  jest  between  us,  will  ye,  Estabel? 
You  '11  only  hev  ter  keep  them  small  trotters  o'  yourn 
a  leetle  to  one  side." 

P^stabel  laughed.  "I  'd  rather  sit  on  my  feet  all  the 
way  than  not  have  them, "  she  said. 

So  presently  a  great  armful  of  the  wild,  beautiful 
things,  in  the  straggly  protection  of  their  own  shrubby 
branches,  was  heaped  between  the  forward  occupants  of 
the  vehicle  and  the  low  dasher,  and  bearing  away  with 
them  the  fragrant  atmosphere  of  the  hidden  fens,  the 
dim,  untrodden  places  out  of  which  a  pure  blessedness 
distilled  itself  so  widely. 

"They  are  own  cousins  to  the  rhododendrons,"  said 
Estabel. 

"  But  oh,  how  white  they  are,  and  how  sweet !  "  said 
Lilian. 

"It 's  a  dreadful  sweet  time  o'  year,"  said  Mr.  Bab- 
son.  "The  lilies  is  all  aout  in  the  gyardins,  Estabel; 
and  the  elderblows  is  comin'  on,  down  by  the  brook; 
and  the  pond  lilies  —  why,  Henslee  Pools  an'  the  East 
Bend  is  jest  shinin'  with  'em.  It  's  a  mighty  pooty 
season  to  come  to  Stillwick." 

Lilian  leaned  over  and  rested  her  lips  with  a  quick, 
soft  touch  on  Estabel' s  shoulder. 

"I  never  had  anything  like  it  before,"  she  said, 
"except  in  breaths  and  dreams.  Everything  is  coming 
true.  I  suppose  Gladmother  would  say  everything  true 
is  coming  out.  It  has  been  there  all  the  time.  That  's 
the  wonder  of  it.  I  'm  so  glad!  " 

Miss  Esther  Charlock  watched  the  young  girl,  listen 
ing  to  her  words  as  to  something  like  a  bird  warble  or 
a  water  ripple.  It  was  all  in  keeping  with  the  "sweet 
time  o'  the  year."  She  had  expected  nothing  like  this 
out  of  Topthorpe.  The  self-repression  in  her  face  re 
laxed  into  a  pleased  reception. 

"Victory  Speerin'  is  goin'  to  be  merried, "  Simon 
Peter  suddenly  informed  Estabel.  Marsden  and  Still- 


182  SQUARE  PEGS. 

wick  were  not  all  swamps  and  woods  and  meadows, 
sweet  as  the  things  that  grow  in  these  might  be.  There 
was  life  and  civilization  and  human  event  also.  "You 
remember  Victory  ?  Well,  they  're  baound  to  make 
a  great  time  of  it.  She  's  goin'  to  live  in  Peaceport. 
He  keeps  a  store  there.  They  do  say  her  settin'-aout 
beats  all.  Her  mother's  cousin  got  the  things  daoun 
to  Noo  Yawk.  Topthorpe  war  n't  smart  enough. 
Them  Speerins  hev  ben  slavin',  an'  sparin',  an'  savin', 
ever  sence  she  was  born ;  an'  naow  it  's  all  lanched  aout." 
Simon  Peter's  Yankeeisms  grew  more  pronounced  as  his 
meanings  became  more  emphatic.  "She  's  got  a  showy 
kind  of  a  feller;  had  some  money  left  him,  so  they  tell, 
and  helps  run  a  smart  concern.  Wedd'n  's  to  be  in 
church,  an'  a  collection  afterwards.  Things  to  eat,  to 
home,  I  mean.  Hired  waiters  from  Peaceport.  Some 
how  'nuther,  them  Speerins  liez  got  hold  of  haow  ter 
dew  things  —  's  fur  forth  's  ter  last  'em  over  this  job, 
anyhaow.  — Oh,  say!  Didger  aunt  tell  ye  we  're  goin' 
to  hev  a  niew  minister?  Thiz  considderble  stir  'baout 
that,  tew." 

"Oh,  don't!"  said  Estabel.  "All  that  spoils  the 
swamp  pinks  and  the  pond  lilies  so!  " 

Aunt  Esther  felt  suddenly  abashed  in  her  secret 
thought  of  amused  complacency  that  things  could  be 
done  in  one  place  as  well  as  in  another ;  and  that  mat 
ters  of  distinctive  consequence  in  Topthorpe  and  with 
the  Clymers  could  be  reduced  to  their  essential  absurdity 
in  Stillwick  and  by  the  Speerings. 

"After  all,  it's  folks  —  not  things  nor  ways  nor 
places, "  she  said  oracularly ;  adding  without  very  appar 
ent  relevance  or  connection,  "and  there  's  a  water-level 
everywhere,  which  accounts  for  swamps  and  ditches  as 
well  as  for  Lake  Champlain  or  the  Mediterranean." 
And  then  she  asked  Lilian  friendly  questions,  and  told 
Estabel  of  Henslee  Place  and  Cousin  Lucy,  and  man 
aged  to  elbow  Simon  Peter  out  of  the  conversation. 


ASPHODEL   AND   WATER  LILIES.          183 

Two  hours  later  Lilian  Hawtree  was  at  home  in  Still- 
wick,  settled  joyously  in  the  opposite  little  dormer 
room  to  Estabel,  under  the  like  elm  shadow,  through 
which  the  orioles  flitted  and  sang  their  tender  twilight 
songs.  The  girls  spoke  softly  across  'to  each  other,  or 
made  their  own  quiet  Sittings  back  and  forth,  sharing 
and  exchanging  their  delights.  The  only  difference  be 
tween  their  lodgments  was  that  one  side  window  was  to 
the  east,  the  other  to  the  west.  Lilian  would  have 
the  early  shining  of  the  day,  Estabel  the  afternoon 
and  evening  radiance.  Was  this  augury  ?  Not  alto- 
together;  each  had  outlook  also  toward  the  wide,  warm 
south,  and  the  fulfilling  noontide. 

In  a  certain  way,  Estabel  had  outgrown  the  kitchen 
garden  romance.  Bean  vines  and  cornstalks  could  not 
quite  so  sufficiently  represent  her  widening  world  —  her 
deepening  life,  rather,  that  was  more  fully  reaching  into 
and  realizing  itself  and  its  world-wide,  absolute  rela 
tion.  There  were  beginnings  in  her  of  something  larger 
than  even  any  possible  acted  story;  that  certainly  could 
not  be  put  on  in  fanciful  pretense ;  that  would  never 
be  satisfied  with  any  simulance.  There  is  an  age,  differ 
ing  greatly  with  individuals,  when  girls  put  away  their 
dolls,  or  think  they  do,  and  must  have  actual,  living 
interests.  The  replacement  maybe  only  in  form;  many 
a  woman  plays  baby  house  to  the  end  of  her  days.  Es 
tabel' s  dolls  had  not  been  of  the  baby  house  sort;  they 
had  been  but  representations,  but  they  had  represented 
something  of  interior  reality. 

The  morning  after  they  had  come  to  Stillwick  she  led 
Lilian  down  to  the  brook;  on  into  the  sweet  gloom  of 
the  pines,  lightened  by  the  sun  filtering  through  clumps 
of  delicate-leaved,  white-stemmed  birches.  It  was  a 
fairy  wood ;  Lilian  sighed  and  smiled  with  soft  delight. 

"It  reaches  all  the  way  to  Henslee  Place  and  back 
over  the  brook  to  the  Red  Ledges,"  Estabel  told  her 
as  they  sat  down  upon  a  lichen-cushioned  rock  under  a 


184  SQUARE  PEGS. 

close  covert,  whence  they  could  just  catch  the  dancing 
sparkle  of  the  little  leaping  stream  that  scampered  over 
a  bed  of  stones  round  an  out-cropping  knoll  that  elbowed 
it  into  the  open. 

From  the  path  they  had  left,  a  whistle  sounded ;  evi 
dently  it  appeared  in  answer  to  Estabel's  voice,  over 
heard,  though  the  speaker  could  not  have  been  overseen. 

"All  the  way  to  Henslee  Place  is  no  such  immense 
distance,  Estabel.  I  'm  here,  you  see,  hunting  you  out 
already.  I  wanted  one  of  the  old  days.  I  did  not 
know  you  had  other  company, "  Harry  Henslee  added, 
as  his  quick,  strong  step  crackled  through  the  short 
brush,  and  he  came  round  and  stood  before  them,  rais 
ing  his  hat  with  a  more  formal  greeting. 

"Can't  do  it  —  as  to  the  days.  Have  to  keep  mak 
ing  new  ones  all  the  time.  Mr.  Harry  Henslee,  let  me 
introduce  you  to  my  friend,  Miss  Lilian  Hawtree." 

Lilian  stood  up,  on  the  lower  slope  of  the  rock,  her 
hat  in  her  hand,  the  light  air  stirring  her  bright  locks, 
the  sunshine  sifting  down  upon  them  and  powdering 
them  with  gold.  The  color  of  a  wild  rose  was  in  her 
cheeks;  the  dew  of  the  morning  was  in  her  pool-brown 
eyes ;  a  real  wild  rose,  just  gathered,  was  at  her  throat, 
its  stem  slipped  through  the  golden  circlet  that  she 
almost  always  wore.  Her  straight,  slim  figure  in  its 
pretty  dimity  gown,  narrow  ruffled  at  throat  and  wrist 
and  hem,  and  belted  in  at  the  waist  with  a  dark  green 
ribbon  like  that  which  was  knotted  about  the  hat  she 
held,  and  dropped  its  flutter  of  cool  color  against  the 
white  folds  of  her  skirt,  made  the  daintiest  of  pictures 
in  its  simple  grace,  and  fitted  singularly  to  its  wild- 
wood  setting. 

After  a  second's  pause  Harry  Henslee  spoke.  He 
very  nearly  forgot  to  make  ordinary  response.  The 
introduction  was  more  a  revelation  than  a  formality. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  interrupt,"  he  said.  "I  ought 
to  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Hawtree." 


ASPHODEL  AND  WATER  LILIES.          185 

Estabel  had  never  heard  just  that  tone  of  deference  in 
Harry's  speech  before. 

"For  being  an  older  friend  of  Estabel's  than  I  am?  " 
asked  Lilian,  with  a  bright,  frank  smile.  "If  any  one 
is  in  the  way,  I  think  it  must  be  I." 

"Then  I  may  stay?" 

"Of  course,  Harry.  Help  us  to  make  the  new  day. 
Every  day  now  is  bran-spick-and-span  new  to  me  — 
just  as  if  I  never  had  had  Stillwick  before.  I  never 
did,  with  Lilian  in  it." 

"I  guess  you  know  how  good  Estabel  is,  Mr.  Hens- 
lee,"  said  Lilian.  Her  smile  bewildered  the  young 
fellow  yet  more.  Estabel  laughed  out. 

"I  don't  believe  you  can  impose  me  upon  Harry," 
she  said.  "He  knows  my  iniquities  of  old.  And  yet 
he  does  n't  know  me  with  Lilian  in  my  life,  any  more 
than  I  did  Stillwick.  I  am  finding  myself  out,  delight 
fully ;  perhaps  he  will." 

Harry  Henslee  glanced  from  one  to  the  other.  Cer 
tainly  a  new  tone,  a  new  poise,  showed  Estabel  to  him 
as  he  had  not  hitherto  seen  her.  She  spoke,  moved, 
as  in  her  own  right.  Alone,  in  the  old  days,  she  had 
been  an  unformed  personality,  an  uncertain  quantity. 
Now  she  seemed  to  have  found  supplement  and  relation. 
It  was  quite  another  girl  who  stood  here,  free  and 
happy,  unscorned  and  unscorning,  companioned  to  her 
heart's  satisfying,  from  her  who  had,  as  he  thought, 
made  little  of  herself  in  Topthorpe,  and  who  before,  in 
Stillwick,  had  not  really  begun  to  be.  It  was  a  new 
creature  in  a  new  day.  It  was  as  wonderful  a  disclos 
ure  as  that  of  the  lovely  cause  that  was  seemingly 
working  the  wonder. 

They  wandered  through  the  woods  together  by  a  way 
Estabel  did  not  remember;  it  took  them  farther  than 
her  ordinary  range,  and  brought  them  by  and  by  to 
where  they  struck  the  brook  again,  which  had  thrown 
a  long  loop  around  a  sunny  meadow.  They  crossed  its 


186  SQUARE  PEGS. 

deepened  water  where  it  narrowed  in  the  cleft  of  a  great 
boulder,  whose  sloping  halves  leaned  their  crests  toward 
each  other  from  either  side,  so  nearly  closing  that  a 
long,  firm  step  midway,  between  a  climb  and  a  descent, 
might  accomplish  the  passage.  Hence  they  followed 
the  shining  guidance  of  the  stream  between  woodside 
and  open ;  the  wide  level  of  the  latter  stretching  away 
at  their  left,  sheeted  like  snow  with  the  frail  white 
blossoms  of  the  sagittaria.  Lilian's  exclamation  of  de 
light  was  passionate. 

"Is  it  asphodel?"  she  cried.  "I  never  —  never  — 
saw  anything  like  that  before !  " 

"It  is  arrowhead,"  said  Harry.  "I  don't  know 
what  asphodel  is  like." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Lilian,  "except  that  it  grows  in  fields 
of  heaven.  I  said  '  asphodel  '  by  instinct;  it  is  so  ex 
quisite  and  pure." 

"Asphodel,"  repeated  Harry  after  her.  "It  is  a 
pretty  name.  It  ought  to  be  among  girls'  names." 

That  was  the  way  he  said  it.  To  himself,  he  thought 
suddenly,  "Why  didn't  they  call  her  Asphodel?  " 

"It  rhymes  to  Estabel, "  remarked  the  young  lady  of 
that  name  demurely. 

"Yes  —  rhymes,"  said  Harry.  "A  rhyme  is  a  kind 
of  echo." 

"I  'm  glad  even  to  echo  to  anything  '  so  exquisite 
and  pure, '  "  returned  the  girl  with  a  yet  aggravated  de- 
mureness. 

Was  it  a  mischievous  thought-reading  or  had  the 
same  intuitive  suggestion  come  to  both? 

Harry  reddened  a  little.  Estabel  reverted  easily  to 
matter  of  fact.  "We  won't  pick  them,"  she  said; 
"they  wilt  so  quickly." 

"Pick  them  !  "  exclaimed  Lilian.  "It  would  be  a  sin. 
I  wouldn't  touch  their  pretty  lives  for  anything." 

"But  we  are  going  to  pick  lilies,"  said  Harry  Hens- 
lee,  wondering  perhaps  what  reconcilement  she  would 


ASPHODEL   AND   WATER   LILIES.  187 

make.  There  was  something  in  this  Lilian  Hawtree 
that  he  would  like  to  understand.  Usually  he  was 
content  to  take  people  upon  the  surface,  —  to  like  or  dis 
like  —  to  judge  or  misjudge  —  without  much  labor  of 
comprehension.  It  was  this  that  Estabel  had  found 
hard,  unfair,  in  him. 

"Oh,  that  is  different,"  was  Lilian's  response.  "It 
is  easy  to  make  them  happy.  Their  world  is  only 
water.  They  will  be  just  as  alive,  and  live  just  as 
long,  if  you  float  them  in  a  basin,  as  they  would  do  in 
a  pond.  But  you  can't  put  back  a  field  or  wood  flower 
into  its  element.  It  will  miss  its  mothering  and  its 
place." 

"  You  are  wearing  a  wild  rose,  Miss  Hawtree  ? " 
He  said  it  interrogatively,  as  if  she  could  give  a  reason, 
not  to  confuse  her.  He  recognized  in  her  already  a 
simplicity  that  would  not  be  confused,  that  there  was 
no  risk  of  confounding. 

"Yes.  Estabel  gave  it  to  me;  so  I  put  it  on  to  keep 
it  safe,  and  because  it  was  so  sweet.  I  believe  I  know 
what  I  had  better  do  with  it. " 

She  drew  the  flower  from  its  fastening,  held  it  gently 
to  her  face  and  breathed  its  breath ;  then  she  stooped 
down  and  dropped  it  softly  upon  the  bosom  of  the  brook. 
It  floated  off,  smiling  up  in  pink  and  golden  freshness 
as  it  drifted. 

"It  will  last  longer  so,  and  it  will  be  sweet  to  the 
end,"  she  said. 

They  walked  till  they  came  to  where  the  brook  fell 
down  a  sudden  rocky  incline,  and  broadened  to  the  fill 
ing  of  a  wide  hollow  like  a  little  lake ;  this  was  one  of 
the  Upper  Pools.  It  was  shining  with  water  lilies,  as 
Simon  Peter  Babson  had  described. 

Harry  got  great  bunches  of  them,  and  of  their  pink- 
streaked,  olive  buds.  The  girls  were  presently  carrying 
over  their  arms  the  drooping  sheaves  whose  gathered 
stems  were  more  than  their  hands  could  clasp. 


188  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"We  will  make  a  lily  pond  in  a  big  tub  on  the  back 
platform,  under  the  maples,"  said  Estabel. 

"And  sit  there  while  the  lilies  last,"  added  Lilian. 

"Or  until  Monday,  when  Mrs.  Bleecher  will  want 
her  tubs  and  washing-place,"  Estabel  amended. 

"Don't  be  so  horribly  prosaic,"  remonstrated  Harry 
Henslee. 

Estabel  opened  her  eyes  wide  at  him.  "As  since 
when?"  she  demanded.  "And  since  when  has  my 
poetry  left  off  being  '  rubbish  '  ?  "  And  Harry  laughed. 

"Matter  out  of  place  is  rubbish,  whether  prose  or 
poetry, "  he  retorted. 

"  Lilian, "  said  Estabel  gravely,  "  I  have  always  been 
matter  out  of  place,  one  way  or  another,  ever  since  I  was 
born. " 

Harry  was  not  sure  whether  she  were  really  hurt  or 
not.  He  moved  nearer  to  her  side,  and  walked  on  with 
her.  "You  don't  mind?  "  he  said. 

"Being  out  of  place?  No;  I  'm  used  to  it.  I  sim 
ply  intend  some  time  to  make  my  own  place." 

She  lifted  up  her  head  with  anything  but  a  snubbed 
comportment,  and  laughed  frankly. 

"I  think  there's  not  the  slightest  doubt  you  will," 
Harry  answered  her,  making  admiring  amende.  Her 
pluck  was  what  the  boy  involuntarily  gave  homage  to. 
But  a  girl  —  a  woman  —  does  not  care  to  win  by  pluck. 

They  had  walked  slowly  back  to  the  boulder  rocks, 
and  crossed  them  to  the  wood  shadow.  Here  they 
rested,  looking  back  upon  the  brook  and  over  into  the 
white-blossomed  meadow.  Lilian  arranged  her  name 
sake  flowers.  She  twisted  two  long  stems  around  her 
golden  brooch;  two  pink- white,  sunny-hearted,  half 
open  buds  dropped  their  graceful  heads  against  her 
bosom.  In  her  lap  lay  the  loose  coil,  among  which  her 
fingers  played  lovingly,  turning  upward  the  sweet  faces 
that  looked  and  breathed  their  incomparable  freshness 
into  her  own,  as  it  leaned  over  them. 


ASPHODEL  AND  WATER  LILIES.          189 

"They  suit  you,"  Harry  Henslee  said. 

Lilian  took  the  word  of  compliment,  if  it  were  such, 
as  simply  as  a  child. 

"Indeed,  they  do,"  she  answered.  "They  look  so 
happy  and  content.  The  poor  rose  would  have  been  all 
dead  by  now.  I'm  glad  it  floated  off  alive."  And 
then  her  eyes,  lifted  from  her  lilies,  went  with  the  re 
minder  straight  past  the  boy's  admiring  face,  and  rested 
on  the  delightsome  white  expanse  of  the  great  field  of 
growing  flowers  beyond. 

"It 's  such  a  comfort,"  she  said  presently,  "to  think 
that  all  this  is  only  a  little  of  it,  after  all." 

"Why!  Why?  "  exclaimed  and  interrogated  Es- 
tabel. 

"Because  it  does  not  make  us  discontented  to  go 
back  to  a  little  less.  Because  we  see  that  a  little  gives 
us  the  feeling  of  all  the  rest,  that  perhaps  we  never  can 
see;  and  ever  so  little  is  enough  for  that." 

Neither  of  the  others  answered.  There  is  never 
much  to  answer  when  a  clear  truth  has  been  simply 
spoken. 

"I  should  just  like  to  see  her  see  the  rest,"  said 
Harry  Henslee  to  himself. 

It  was  almost  Aunt  Esther's  early  dinner  time.  Es- 
tabel  reminded  them  of  that,  and  they  all  retraced  the 
woodland  path  together  to  the  foot  of  the  little  home 
orchard.  There  Harry  said  good-by,  declining  invita 
tion  to  come  in  and  have  luncheon  with  them.  Some 
how,  though  he  did  not  say  so,  common  eating  and 
drinking  indoors  would  not  just  yet  suit  him  after  such 
a  morning. 

He  walked  home  through  the  long  wood  way  again, 
feeling,  rather  than  thinking,  how  the  best  of  the  old 
days  had  been  in  this,  and  something  more.  He  did 
not  try  to  discover  what  had  been  the  new  spell  which 
had  made  everything  so  exceedingly  delightful.  He 
was  at  an  age  when  the  boy  begins  to  feel  the  strong 


190  SQUARE  PEGS. 

flush  of  his  manhood,  hut  when  the  man  asks  the  boy  no 
questions.  He  was  just  the  younger  side  of  twenty. 

He  only  thought  that  Estabel  Charlock  was  nicer 
than  ever;  that  Topthorpe  had  done  something  for  her 
after  all ;  and  that  the  very  nicest  of  her  had  discovered 
and  taken  to  herself  in  Topthorpe  this  new  friendship. 
And  still  he  was  rather  more  than  ever  of  the  opinion 
that  to  Topthorpe  in  general  she  never  would  quite  fit 
herself. 

He  hardly  cared  to  learn  just  where  she  had  found 
Lilian.  Not  at  Scalchi's,  nor  anywhere  among  the 
young  e'lite  whom  he  knew  well.  Elite?  she  was  a  girl 
who  might  fit  anywhere  that  she  would  care  to  he.  It 
would  he  she  who  would  elect,  not  need  to  be  elected. 
For  the  first  time  he  discerned  that  the  elegance  he 
valued  was  election ;  a  choosing  by  natural  affinities  the 
sweetest  and  the  best;  and  that  the  cultivated  grace 
aaid  breeding  which  assumed  itself  might  but  assume  at 
second  hand.  He  did  not  want  to  know  just  yet  who 
Lilian  Hawtree's  father  might  be,  or  in  what  street  she 

lived. 

• 

"  How  did  you  find  Estabel  ?  "  Aunt  Lucy  asked  of 
him  at  dinner. 

"In  the  woods." 

"Of  course,"  answered  the  lady,  smiling.  "That 
was  the  likely  where.  But  how  —  herself?  " 

"Oh,  very  much  herself.  More  and  better.  Re 
vised  and  improved." 

"Illustrated?" 

"If  you  mean  in  the  way  of  picture  prettiness,  I 
should  say  no ;  not  fully.  And  yet  " 

"Estabel  will  never  be  pretty.  She  will  be  beyond 
that,  if  anything." 

"I  guess  that  was  what  I  meant  to  say.  Estabel  is 
very  possible,  but  she  doesn't  quite  come  to  pass." 

"What  may  come  to  pass  with  her  takes  time." 


ASPHODEL  AND  WATER  LILIES.  191 

"That's  a  pity,  isn't  it?  A  girl's  time  isn't  so 
very  long." 

"A  woman's  is  —  or  any  human  being's.  But  what 
about  her  friend  ?  What  is  she  like  ?  " 

"Miss  Hawtree?  Well,  it  strikes  me  that  she  is  a 
new  kind  of  a  girl  altogether." 

That  was  frank,  but  ambiguous.  Miss  Henslee  did 
not  know  exactly  what  to  make  of  it.  But  she  asked 
no  further  questions. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

SQUARE    AND    ROUND. 

"  I  WISH  you  would  let  me  trim  a  bonnet, "  said 
Lilian  to  Aunt  Esther. 

They  were  sitting  in  the  shop.  It  was  a  rainy  day. 
The  two  girls  were  to  have  gone  to  Henslee  Place,  but 
the  weather  had  rendered  that  out  of  the  question. 

Estabel  was  listless,  restless.  She  could  not  easily 
pass  from  a  planned  intent  to  an  improvised  alternative. 
She  watched  the  clouds  and  the  downpour  —  a  furious 
summer  deluge  —  standing  at  the  sashed  door  of  en 
trance  from  the  street.  Nobody  would  enter,  any  more 
than  go  out,  to-day. 

Lilian  sat  by  Miss  Charlock's  side  in  the  cosy,  car 
peted  square  space  behind  the  counters,  which  zigzagged 
through  the  length  of  the  apartment  in  this  fashion : 


At  the  front  the  outer  door  gave  passage;  at  the  side 
another  communicated  with  the  dwelling  across  the  lit 
tle  hall.  In  the  farther  corner  a  small  open  fireplace, 


SQUARE  AND  ROUND.  193 

with  a  basket  grate,  furnished  cheer  and  warmth  in 
winter.  Now  it  was  filled  with  boughs,  green  flags, 
and  cat-o'-nine  tails.  A  round  table  for  work  stood 
in  the  middle  of  the  home  square,  as  Estabel  had  chris 
tened  it ;  and  shelves  from  floor  to  ceiling  —  a  part  of 
them  for  boxes  and  folded  goods,  and  a  part  for  the 
books  of  the  little  circulating  library  —  occupied  every 
available  wall  space  in  both  sections.  The  jog  in  the 
counter  was  formed  by  the  flap-leaf,  for  passage;  set 
between  retaining  boards  at  the  ends  of  the  counters 
proper,  to  keep  it  clear  from  encroach.  Aunt  Esther 
was  insistently  methodical. 

It  was  a  very  compact,  well-contrived  little  duplex 
establishment,  very  much  on  the  Boffin  principle.  The 
home  part  was  exclusive ;  very  few  were  invited  to  come 
therein.  The  divisions  of  business  and  privacy  were  as 
pronounced  as  those  of  Wall  Street  and  Fifth  Avenue. 
Behind  that  counter-swing  Miss  Charlock  was  of  the 
best  position  in  Stillwick.  In  the  very  face  of  her 
trade  her  dignity  was  patent. 

"I  wish  you  would  let  me  trim  a  bonnet." 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  ?  —  Estabel,  I  wish  you 
would  come  in  out  of  the  shop  and  sit  down." 

"I  will  if  Lilian  is  going  to  trim  a  bonnet.  I  'd 
like  to  watch  her,  and  to  see  you  watch." 

"You  idle  child!" 

"It  wouldn't  be  idleness.  It  would  be  a  most  im 
proving  study  in  evolution  and  moral  effect." 

"Chooty-choo!" 

"That  means,  Lilian,  being  interpreted,  Choose  — 
your  choose!  All  frippery  is  open  to  you.  Whose  bon 
net  is  it  to  be?  I  '11  give  you  the  personality  you  are 
to  adapt  to.  Is  it  Mrs.  Listenhard's,  auntie,  or  Miss 
Chattery  Glib's?  One  ought  to  be  well  set  off  at  the 
ears  and  wide  in  the  flare,  and  the  other  very  easy  in 
the  strings  and  bobby  as  to  the  topknot.  One  ought 
to  express  '  I  want  to  know, '  and  the  other  '  I  can  tell 
you  all  about  it,  for  I  was  knowin'  to  the  whole.'  ' 


194  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Estabel!  If  you  let  yourself  mimic,  and  twist  peo 
ple's  names,  you  '11  do  it  to  their  faces  some  time,  be 
fore  you  think." 

"They  wouldn't  see  themselves  if  you  held  up  a 
looking-glass.  And  I  'm  sure  it  isn't  a  far  fetch  from 
'  Lisnard  '  to  my  proper  pronunciation  of  that ;  and  as 
for  Charity  Gibb,  if  she  isn't  Chattery  Glib,  she  isn't 
anything." 

Miss  Charlock  turned  to  Lilian.  "It  shall  not  be 
for  anybody  in  particular.  You  shall  do  it  as  you  like, 
and  we  '11  see  who  '11  choose  it." 

"I  don't  believe  a  single  person  in  Stillwick  will. 
It  will  be  right  over  all  their  heads,  like  that  lecture 
at  the  Lyceum  last  week, "  persisted  Estabel. 

"That  would  be  an  impossible  success,"  said  Lilian, 
laughing.  "Oh,  that  pretty  new  straw!  You  aren't 
going  to  risk  that  with  me  ?  " 

"When  I  trust  anybody,  I  trust  them  with  some 
thing.  Pick  out  your  ribbon.  Do  you  want  flowers?  " 

"Are  there  any  real  ones?  I  mean  copies  of  real 
flowers.  If  I  had  time  and  the  things,  I  would  make 
some." 

"Make  some!" 

"Yes;  I  've  learned.  It 's  pretty  work.  There  was 
a  Madame  Saurelle  who  came  to  Topthorpe  to  try  and 
make  a  business  of  it.  She  went  to  New  York  after 
a  little  while.  But  she  boarded  with  a  friend  of  Glad- 
mother's  in  Clover  Street,  and  we  knew  her  very  well. 
She  taught  me.  She  never  made  what  we  call  '  French 
flowers  '  —  those  fine  little  any-sorts  of  things.  She 
said  she  despised  artificielles,  and  that  we  never  got  the 
real  French  art  here.  She  made  real  roses,  that  you 
wanted  to  smell ;  and  heliotropes  and  pansies  and  pop 
pies,  and  oh !  such  geraniums  —  pelargoniums,  they  call 
them  now  —  with  their  beautiful  curly,  downy,  or  shiny- 
green  leaves !  Her  '  bouquets  de  corsage  '  were  wonder 
ful.  One  couldn't  have  worn  them  out  of  doors  in 


SQUARE  AND  ROUND.  195 

summer  for  fear  of  the  bees.  But  her  things  had.  to  be 
so  very  dear  that  there  were  not  people  enough  to  buy 
them.  It  seems  to  me  she  might  have  made  them 
cheaper,  only  her  life  had  to  be  so  dear.  She  had  a 
sick  daughter,  and  a  wretched  son  somewhere  —  and 
I  don't  know  but  a  husband  —  who  always  had  to  have 
money  to  run  away  with  somewhere  else.  So  her  time 
was  very  expensive.  Anybody  who  had  a  home  and 
a  little  bit  of  some  independent  work  or  money  might 
make  it  help  out  beautifully.  Gladmother  thought  it 
was  good  for  me  to  know,  and  I  am  sure  it  was  very 
pleasant." 

All  through  the  recital  of  this  little  episode  Lilian's 
busy  fingers  had  been  turning  over  with  delicate  touches 
the  contents  of  ribbon  and  flower  boxes  which  Miss 
Charlock  took  down  from  the  shelves  and  placed  before 
her. 

"  Oh,  what  a  lovely  violet !  "  she  exclaimed,  unrolling 
an  end  of  satin-striped  "lutestring."  "And  here  is 
some  creamy  white,  striped  just  like  it.  Have  you 
any  black  trimming  lace  ?  " 

" Plen-ty  o'  that!  "  Miss  Charlock  answered,  with  an 
inimitable  intonation  of  her  own  which  she  was  wont  to 
use  to  indicate  an  abounding  certainty.  And  down 
came  another  box,  whose  plenty  consisted  of  three  or 
four  folds,  of  as  many  yards  each,  of  the  article  de 
sired.  Probably  it  was  one  that  had  long  waited  a 
demand,  and  as  dead  value  magnified  itself  to  Miss 
Charlock's  business  estimate. 

Lilian  found  a  piece  of  a  light  leaf  pattern  whose 
outline  formed  its  graceful  edge. 

"  Why,  Miss  Charlock !  What  exquisite  choice  you 
have !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  she  drew  it  forth  in  its  length 
and  laid  it  lightly  upon  the  rippling  violet  ribbon. 

"Well,  I  know  what  I  think 's  handsome  —  in  lace 
or  anything  else,"  returned  the  lady.  "But  Stillwick 
don't  always  agree  with  me.  I  've  had  that  purple 


196  SQUARE  PEGS. 

ribbon  four  or  five  years.  They  call  it  a  half  mournin' 
color  here;  and  there  ain't  many  half  mourners.  They 
can't  have  so  many  changes.  They  get  over  it  all  at 
once,  when  they  begin.  And  the  young  girls  all  want 
pink  and  blue  and  scarlet  and  figured  —  anything  but 
yuller.  Yuller 's  darkies'  color,  they  say;  only  they 
call  it  by  the  other  word  for  darky." 

"Why,  yellow  is  beautiful!  It  is  the  sunshine  color. 
You  don't  want  a  glare  of  it,  but  just  a  lighting  up, 
or  a  single  bright  little  flash.  I  should  just  like  to 
show  you,  some  time.  Now  my  heart  is  fixed  on  this 
violet  and  the  lace.  Only  there  isn't  a  flower  here 
that  will  quite  do.  I  ivish  I  had  some  purple  asters!  " 

"Well,  there  ain't  almost  anything  that  isn't  laid 
by  in  an  old  milliner's  shop.  I  bought  some  things  at 
a  selling  out,  the  only  solitary  time  I  ever  was  in  New 
York,  and  there  they've  been.  Folks  called  'em  stiff; 
the  fashion  's  been  so  long  for  things  traily  and  droopy, 
and  long-endy,  hangin'  off  on  one  side ;  and  I  never 
could  seem  to  work  it  in  so  's  't  they  'd  go." 

Miss  Charlock  climbed  to  the  top  of  her  library  steps, 
which  she  wheeled  in  through  the  counter  gap,  and 
placed  before  the  remotest  range  of  shelves,  from  the 
topmost  of  which  she  presently  reached  down  a  large 
flat  box  with  a  very  dusty  cover. 

"  Here,  Estabel !  Take  this,  and  carry  it  steady  and 
brush  it  off  out  of  the  back  window,  where  the  rain 
won't  drive  in." 

Dusted  and  opened,  it  revealed  to  Lilian's  delighted 
eyes  the  very  "real  things  "  she  had  sighed  for.  "Why, 
these  might  be  Madame  Saurelle's  own,"  she  said. 
There  were  asters  of  dark  and  pale  purples,  and  of  pure 
white ;  there  were  chrysanthemums,  white,  brown, 
golden ;  there  were  grasses  and  clover-heads,  and  gay 
columbines.  None  of  them  could  be  made  droopy  or 
traily;  they  stood  up  bright  and  strong,  except  for  the 
bending  of  the  grass-tops  and  the  delicately  nodding 
spurred  corollas  of  the  Aquilegia. 


SQUARE  AND   ROUND.  197 

An  empty  box  upon  a  stool  made  a  low  work  tray; 
into  it  went  the  lace  and  the  ribbon  and  the  aster  flow 
ers,  white  lining  silk,  muslin  "foundation."  Lilian 
began  at  once  to  fit  brim  facing  and  cut  "bias  "  for  the 
frill. 

She  had  got  her  lap  full  and  was  literally  immersed 
in  her  pretty  occupation,  when  the  door  from  the  hall 
way  opened  and  Harry  Henslee,  looking  down  from  his 
own  height  and  that  of  the  two  inward  steps,  stood 
upon  the  threshold. 

"May  I  come?  "  he  asked.  "I  sha  'n't  spatter  any 
thing.  I  've  left  my  oilskin  in  the  woodhouse.  I 
couldn't  let  the  day  be  quite  washed  out  of  the  week, 
and  I  've  a  message  besides  from  Aunt  Lucy.  You  're 
to  come  to-morrow,  weather  or  no.  The  woods  will  be 
wet  in  the  morning,  even  if  it  clears,  but  I  'm  to  bring 
the  carriage.  There  '11  be  the  chance  of  the  walk  back 
by  the  little  moon  and  the  twilight. — What  are  you 
all  up  to  ?  "  looking  solely  at  Lilian  with  the  drift  of 
color  and  light  stuff  about  her. 

"Making  a  bonnet." 

"Seeing  it  made." 

"I  can  help  with  the  party  of  the  second  part." 

"More  likely  to  hinder."  But  Aunt  Esther,  as  she 
spoke,  pulled  a  camp  stool  beside  her  from  under  the 
counter,  with  contradictory  permission. 

"Lilian  is  never  hindered,"  said  Estabel. 

"Because  there  aren't  any  hindrances,"  said  Lilian. 
"What  interrupts  only  comes  into  a  place  of  its  own." 

"That 's  nice  doctrine.  I  guess  your  world  's  round, 
Miss  Hawtree." 

"Isn't  everybody's?" 

"No.  Or  there  are  lots  of  people  that  don't  suit 
themselves  to  a  round  world  or  round  places.  They  're 
square  pegs,  that  won't  fit  anywhere.  So  they  're  al 
ways  trying  to  square  circles,  which  is  exactly  what 
can't  be  done." 


198  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"If  there  are  square  pegs,  there  must  be  square  places 
somewhere,"  said  Estabel.  "Every  angle  fits  its  own 
corner,  if  you  can  only  find  out  where  you  go  in  the 
puzzle.  I  like  tangrams,  when  they  work  straight. 
Only  I  don't  like  to  be  the  odd  piece." 

"Of  course  you  do;  and  of  course  you  don't;  and 
usually  they  won't;  and  very  often  —  you  are." 

"Categorical,"  said  Estabel.       "And  kindly." 

"Of  course.  Meant  so.  Acknowledging  your  im 
portance.  When  the  odd  piece  is  once  set  right,  with 
its  angles  accommodated,  it 's  awfully  right.  Other 
wise,  it  's  awfully  set  and  persistently  in  the  way.  For 
myself,  being  of  no  particular  importance,  I  'd  rather 
slide  round  comfortably.  It  's  the  plan  of  the  universe. 
What  should  we  do  with  square  worlds  and  square  or 
bits?  They  simply  could  n't  be." 

"What  nonsense!  As  if  square  and  round  hadn't 
their  proper  relations !  With  a  radius  of  half  the  diam 
eter,  you  can  inscribe  a  circle  in  any  square ;  and  with 
half  the  diagonal,  you  can  describe  a  circle  round  it. 
And  '  square  '  is  only  another  word  for  fair  and  true." 

"  Exactly  so ;  and  '  all  round  '  means  pretty  much 
the  same  thing;  and  the  square  being  just  as  potential 
to  the  round,  I  'd  rather  describe  the  circle  than  turn 
any  severe  angles.  Give  me  a  round  earth  and  a  gay 
little  ecliptic.  I  approve  of  things  as  they  are." 

"The  Golden  City  '  lieth  foursquare,'"  said  Lilian 
quietly. 

"That  we  are  to  come  to.  Yes,  perhaps.  I  have 
no  doubt  there  is  a  geometry  that  will  make  it  all  right. 
In  the  meantime  there  does  seem  to  be  a  little  practical 
—  and  Biblical  —  mixing  up.  You  can't  understand 
which  is  the  ruling  principle  or  type.  There 's  the 
round  earth,  that  cannot  be  moved ;  and  there  are  the 
four  corners  of  the  earth,  and  the  four  quarters,  and 
the  four  winds,  and  the  four  seasons;  and  the  four  crea 
tures  with  the  four  wings  and  four  sides  and  four  faces ; 


SQUARE  AND   ROUND.  199 

and  the  four  very  queer  wheels  that  '  went  upon  their 
four  sides,  and  turned  not  as  they  went;'  and  yet  they 
had  '  dreadful  high  rings, '  "  — 

"Harry!" 

"It 's  all  there.  I  'm  in  earnest.  But  I  suppose 
nobody  pretends  to  know  what  it  all  means.  And 
there 's  a  lot  more  somewhere  else,  about  Solomon's 
temple,  and  the  round  molten  sea,  and  the  round  lavers, 
and  the  square  bases,  and  the  twelve  oxen  that  held  up 
the  molten  sea,  and  looked  three  to  the  north,  and 
three  to  the  west,  and  three  to  the  south,  and  three  to 
the  east  "  — 

"You  're  only  proving  what  I  said,  that  the  square 
and  the  round  are  related  and  not  opposed, "  said  Es- 
tabel  concisely.  "And  you  're  making  nonsensical  gib 
berish  out  of  it." 

"Chooty-choo !  "  interjected  Miss  Charlock.  "You 
don't  either  of  you  know  what  you  're  talking  about,  and 
you  '11  make  Lilian  spoil  her  bonnet." 

"How  did  we  get  into  all  these  morals  and  mathe 
matics  ?  Who  began  it  ?  "  demanded  Estabel. 

"The  kettle  began  it.  You  boiled  up,  and  said  that 
Miss  Hawtree  couldn't  be  hindered." 

"And  Lilian  said  that  hindrances  didn't  hinder. 
And  then  you  proceeded  to  prove  personally  that  they 
did." 

"I  said  that  interruptions  —  I  mean  things  that  come 
along  naturally,  in  the  day's  work  —  were  not  hin 
drances,  because  they  were  part  of  the  plan,  and  had 
their  right  of  way.  And  besides,  Mr.  Henslee  lost  his 
argument,  for  I  was  not  even  interrupted." 

She  held  up  on  one  hand  in  evidence  the  pretty  straw, 
in  whose  close  little  brim  she  had  already  set  a  line  of 
white  silk  facing,  glistening  softly  through  an  edging 
of  narrow  black  lace.  "Now  I  have  the  cape  to  make." 

"There's  got  to  be  a  'kick'  to  that,"  interposed 
Aunt  Esther. 


200  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"The  last  thing  I  should  think  of  applying  to  a 
bonnet, "  said  Harry. 

"Nobody  asked  you  to.  Lilian  knows  what  I  mean. 
It's  the  milliner's  knack.  And  it  isn't  easy  to  get. 
If  you  don't  hit  it,  there  won't  be  any  air  at  all  to  the 
whole  thing." 

"I  'm  fair  at  football,"  remarked  Harry  in  a  subdued 
manner. 

"Miss  Charlock  means  the  line  of  expression.  That 
has  to  be  kept  to  in  the  whole  making.  See  here  —  how 
this  brim  slants  slightly  backward;  and  how  the  cut-off 
of  the  crown  follows  the  same  slope ;  now  the  frill 
mustn't  stick  up  nor  hang  down,  but  fall  off  accord 
ingly;  not  stiffly,  but  with  a  light  sweep  of  its  own. 
And  then  the  flowers  and  the  ribbon  must  be  set  on  to 
harmonize.  If  I  were  to  put  a  bow,  or  fasten  ends,  at 
right  angles  to  the  line  of  expression,  it  would  be  an 
ugliness.  Just  as  if  you  were  to  paint  a  picture  with 
a  breeze  in  it,  and  make  one  thing  blow  one  way  and 
another  another." 

"I  told  you  so.  Right  angles  are  disastrous,  in 
manners,  morals,  and  millinery.  There 's  a  law  of 
harmony  in  your  work,  Miss  Hawtree." 

"As  there  is  in  everything  —  right  angles  and  all. 
You  would  n't  build  a  house  as  you  would  trim  a  bon 
net,  "  answered  Lilian,  smiling. 

Her  quick,  dexterous  fingers  were  rapidly  putting 
together  the  white  silk  plaiting,  over  which  lay  the 
delicate  tracery  of  the  leaf-patterned  lace ;  with  a  few 
strong,  skillfully  placed  stitches  which  drew  it  close  in 
exactly  the  proper  curves,  she  fastened  it  to  the  back 
of  the  bonnet,  setting  it  off  with  the  mysterious  "kick" 
that  even  Harry  could  recognize  now  that  it  was  illus 
trated. 

Lilian  held  it  up  again.  "Isn't  it  light,  and  breezy, 
and  all  of  a  mind  and  motion  ?  "  she  asked. 

"You  're  making  poetry  of  it,"  said  Estabel. 


SQUARE  AND  ROUND.  201 

"Wait  till  the  asters  bloom  out  on  it,  and  I  carry 
these  lovely  ribbons  along  the  line  of  expression.  Don't 
look  at  me  while  I  do  it.  I  don't  mind,  only  I  'd  like 
yon  to  see  it  done,  instead  of  doing. " 

But  Harry  Henslee  took  the  "don't  mind  "  as  license 
for  not  minding,  and  watched  the  pretty  process  undis- 
guisedly,  until  a  little  constellation  of  the  asters  arose 
with  white  and  purple  gleam  out  of  a  cloud-like  lace 
shadow  at  precisely  the  right,  gracefully  effective  point 
above  the  left  horizon  brim,  and  violet  and  white  rib 
bons,  drawn  lightly  back  from  the  cluster  around  the 
low,  broad  ci-own,  were  knotted  together  in  the  hollow 
of  the  neck  frill,  escaping  thence  in  their  own  latitude 
to  complete  the  "breezy  line  of  expression." 

"I  told  you  it  was  going  to  be  a  poem!  "  exclaimed 
Estabel,  as  Lilian  affixed  the  strings  to  their  corners  — 
a  violet  and  a  white  one  —  and  tied  them,  in  their  in 
termingling  tints,  in  a  bewitching  chin  bow.  "Every 
bit  of  it  is  a  rhyme  and  the  whole  is  a  reason." 

"I  like  it,"  Lilian  said  simply,  as  she  turned  it 
round  on  her  uplifted  wrist.  "Do  you,  Miss  Char 
lock?" 

"Yes,  I  do.  Still  an'  all,  I  tell  you  it 's  ahead  of 
time.  The  fashion  hasn't  caught  up  with  it.  It  will, 
of  course.  One  of  these  days,  they  '11  find  out  that 
flowers  don't  grow  upside  down,  and  a  lively  bird  don't 
always  wear  its  plumes  draggling.  And  then  you  won't 
be  able  to  stick  things  up  high  and  straight  enough,  nor 
get  them  of  a  tall  enough  kind.  I  ain't  sixty  yet,  and 
I  may  live  to  see  mulleins  and  goldenrod  and  hard- 
hack  and  feather  dusters  runnin'  up  into  the  air  on 
women's  heads.  And  maybe  I  shall  get  depraved 
enough  to  admire  'em. — There  —  I've  said  my  say, 
and  now  I  '11  confess  up  candid  you  've  done  a  thing 
clear  away  out  of  the  common,  an'  1  couldn't  have  done 
it,  an'  I  don't  care  if  it  don't  sell.  If  ever  you  was  to 
be  a  regular  milliner  the  style  would  follow  you,  instead 


202  SQUARE   PEGS. 

of  you  the  style;  and  I  guess  you  're  made  that  way  in 
most  things." 

Harry  Henslee  thought  to  himself  that  Aunt  Esther's 
head  was  level ;  nevertheless,  looking  into  Lilian  Haw- 
tree's  pleased  eyes,  he  wondered  just  a  little  at  their 
pleasure.  It  was  not  altogether  at  Miss  Charlock's 
brusque  compliment,  he  knew,  but  a  pure,  essential 
delight. 

"You  are  as  happy  over  these  things  as  you  were 
over  the  water  lilies  and  the  meadow  flowers, "  he  said 
tentatively. 

"Maybe  not  so  happy,  but  just  as  really.  Why  not? 
There  isn't  but  one  kind  of  pleasure,  is  there?  Hav 
ing  things  right  and  beautiful  in  their  way,  and  doing 
your  work  and  taking  your  part  in  everything  as  rightly 
and  beautifully  as  you  can.  That  's  all  the  living  there 
is,  Gladmother  says;  and  it's  all  we're  made  alive 
for." 

"It's  time  for  dinner,"  Miss  Charlock  remarked 
briefly,  rising  to  leave  the  shop.  But  Harry  Henslee 
made  no  move  to  leave. 

"Mayn't  I  stay?  "  he  asked  Aunt  Esther. 

Life  strikes  many  an  unheeded  prophetic  little  note. 
A  word,  a  trivial  happening,  gives  hint,  like  a  theme  in 
music,  of  something  that  is  to  be  more  or  less  recurrent 
all  the  way  along. 

It  was  not  the  last  time  that  Lilian  Hawtree  would 
trim  a  bonnet  for  Aunt  Esther.  It  was  not  the  last 
time  that  these  three  young  persons  would  meet  the 
questions  of  their  experience  together,  and  find  them 
intervolved. 

Nor  was  it  the  last  time  that  Estabel  Charlock  would 
be  reminded  of  square  pegs,  and  the  misjoins  of  the 
great  Tangram  Puzzle. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A    PANORAMA    OF    THE    PAST. 

A  MORXIXG  carriage  drive  through  the  quiet  villages 
of  Stillwick  and  The  Corners  brought  the  young  people 
to  Henslee  Place,  where  Aunt  Lucy  greeted  them  with 
her  cordial  grace,  and  made  them  free  of  the  wide, 
beautiful  house,  since  out-of-door  pleasure  would  not  be 
practicable  until  the  wet  of  the  heavy  rain  should  have 
exhaled  a  little  longer  from  the  sweet-reeking  fields  and 
woods. 

Colonel  Henslee,  although  not  definitely  ill,  had 
grown  more  infirm  with  the  passing  year,  and  now  lived 
altogether  in  his  own  rooms,  where  his  deafness  shielded 
him  from  any  invading  sounds ;  and  this  seclusion  and 
insured  quiet  rendered  it  possible  for  the  young  life 
which  Miss  Lucy  loved  and  drew  around  her  to  have 
full  enjoyment  of  its  liberty  in  all  the  rest  of  the  old 
mansion. 

Estabel  led  Lilian  about  and  showed  her  all  the 
things  that  had  delighted  herself  from  early  childhood ; 
told  her  bits  of  household  history,  explained  the  pic 
tures,  and  the  associations  of  quaint  old  furnishings ; 
especially  they  lingered,  as  Estabel  had  always  done,  be 
fore  the  beautiful  portrait  in  the  hall. 

Harry  met  them  there  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase, 
after  a  little  visit  in  his  grandfather's  room. 

"Isn't  she  lovely?  "  Estabel  was  asking  in  a  low  tone 
as  if  in  presence  of  the  living  original.  And  Lilian  only 
made  a  little  sighing  sound  in  answer. 

"She  is  my  father's  mother,"  said  Harry  Henslee. 


204  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"And  she  is  my  father's  aunt,"  Estabel  Charlock 
declared,  with  a  sweet  pride  that  she  would  never  have 
shown  anybody  else  in  her  little  world. 

"How  glad  you  must  be!  " 

And  it  seemed  to  the  three  young  things  as  if  the 
gracious  face  looked  down  upon  them  out  of  its  past 
with  a  new,  responding  smile.  Who  knows  ?  And  who 
knows  if  out  of  past  or  present  ?  For  I  believe  that  a 
dear  picture  is  now  and  then  informed. 

"  May  we  go  up  into  the  big  Press  Chamber  ?  "  Harry 
asked  Miss  Henslee  presently  afterward.  The  idea 
came  so  naturally,  as  we  shall  see,  from  this  touch  with 
the  old  and  proudly  cherished. 

"That  means '  May  we  rummage  there?  '  Yes;  with 
discrimination  —  and  due  respect, "  Miss  Henslee  an 
swered  him.  She  had  trusted  the  boy  before,  and  with 
all  his  love  of  frolic  she  knew  both  his  reverence  and 
his  discretion. 

"  I  say, "  he  called  to  the  two  girls  as  he  overtook 
them  in  the  long  upper  corridor  with  the  keys,  "we  '11 
have  a  Panorama  of  the  Past  in  the  gallery  of  the 
dancing-room.  There  are  old  things  that  came  from 
England,  —  court  gowns,  and  wigs,  and  a  British  naval 
uniform  that  belonged  to  Admiral  Henslee,  and  no  end 
of  petticoats  and  frills  and  plumes  and  caps  and  ker 
chiefs,  to  say  nothing  of  made-up  character  dresses  that 
have  been  worn  at  old  balls  and  plays,  and  in  tableaux. 
The  chests  and  wardrobes  are  brimful.  We  '11  be 
everybody  that  ever  was,  that  we  have  time  to  be." 

"Where  's  the  audience?  " 

"  Hush !  How  do  we  know  ?  "  he  whispered  myste 
riously. 

"Do  you  suppose  their  gowns  and  wigs  and  furbelows 
are  all  that  is  left  of  those  fine  old  wise  and  splendid 
folks?  Don't  you  know  every  old  house  is  full  of  'em 
coming  and  going,  more  or  less,  as  they  take  an  interest, 
and  people  behave?  They  weren't  the  sort  to  forget 


A  PANORAMA  OF  THE  PAST.  205 

their  old  places,  or  not  to  look  after  their  kin,  even 
though  the  stupid  places  and  the  kin  may  know  them  no 
more. " 

"I  think  that  is  true,"  said  Lilian.  "Only  I  sup 
pose  the  sort  of  stories  we  hear  about  it  are  like  fables, 
false  outside,  but  made  about  something  real." 

"You  believe  in  ghosts?"  Harry  turned  upon  her 
quickly. 

"In  spirits,  certainly." 

"Noises  and  apparitions?  " 

"It  seems  to  me  those  are  very  feeble  things.  Spir 
its  are  stronger :  they  are  like  wind,  '  that  bloweth 
where  it  listeth. '  Where  their  thought  is,  there  they 
are.  And  spirits  know  when  spirits  come.  Perhaps 
our  thought  may  sometimes  find  theirs,  and  call  them." 

"And  that  's  why  they  talk  about  '  fetches.'  ' 

"You  are  half  in  fun.  But  a  '  fetch  '  is  a  phantom 
of  a  living  person." 

"And  if  spirits  can  be  fetched,  they  must  be  living 
persons." 

"You  are  very  right,"  she  answered  gravely. 

But  they  were  to  have  an  audience  in  the  flesh,  and 
more  actors. 

Carriages  were  heard  rolling  up  the  drive.  "Oh, 
dear !  visitors !  "  exclaimed  Estabel  aggrievedly. 

"Maybe  it  won't  matter.  Depends  on  who  they 
are,"  said  Harry.  "If  we  want  them,  we  can  have 
them;  if  not,  Aunt  Lucy  will  take  care  of  them." 

They  were  a  party  from  Peaceport,  on  their  way  to 
the  High  Quarries,  east  of  Stillwick  village,  —  Creston- 
fielcls,  Thornils,  Paynes,  and  the  young  Chumleys ;  half 
a  dozen  young  people,  with  chaperoning  elders ;  friends 
of  the  Henslees,  who  had  often  filled  the  house  as  guests 
for  a  day  or  days;  driven  round  here  now  for  a  sum 
mer  call. 

"Luncheon  people;  that  goes  without  saying,"  said 
Harry,  watching  from  the  corridor  window,  and  catch- 


206  SQUARE  PEGS. 

ing  the  merry  self -announcements.  "Aunt  Lucy  won't 
be  Aunt  Lucy  if  she  lets  them  off,  and  they  knew  it 
when  they  made  their  programme.  It  will  be  called 
'  luncheon  '  by  a  polite  fiction,  which  can  be  politely 
accepted ;  but  it  will  be  a  transfigured  dinner.  We 
shall  sit  round  easily  at  the  big  table  and  at  improvised 
little  ones,  and  take  what  is  handed  to  us ;  and  you 
will  wish  that  dinner  was  always  luncheon,  and  that 
luncheon  came  three  times  a  day.  Meanwhile,  we  shall 
have  our  audience.  Our  ghosts  have  sent  substitutes." 

With  that  he  hurried  down  to  do  his  part  of  the  hos 
pitality. 

"I  'd  rather  have  had  the  ghosts,"  said  Estabel. 

"They  may  not  stay  away,"  said  Lilian.  "We  can 
always  act  to  them,  like  Napoleon's  soldiers  to  the  forty 
centuries." 

In  a  few  minutes,  with  cheerful  bustle,  a  laughing, 
chatting  group  gathered  in  the  old  dancing-room,  whose 
echoes  woke  to  their  voices  out  of  the  deserted  quiet, 
like  a  welcome,  indeed,  from  those  other  presences  of 
elder  generations  who  had  once  received  here,  and 
through  multiplied  local  consanguinities  might  easily 
hail  some  of  these  as  kin. 

"I  told  you  so,"  whispered  Harry,  as  Lilian  re 
marked  to  him  the  resonance.  "There  's  a  lot  of  'em 
here.  We  can  draft  off  the  vounger  ones,  as  well  as 
not." 

"Is  your  remark  ambiguous ?"  asked  Estabel,  over 
hearing. 

"Not  at  all.      Direct,  in  sequence  and  significance." 

The  drafting  was  done,  and  after  most  merry  robing 
in  the  Press  Chamber,  the  Panorama  of  the  Past  began. 

At  Harry's  suggestion  Estabel  had  been  empowered 
as  Mistress  of  the  Robes,  with  Lilian  to  assist  her,  that 
there  might  be  no  confusion  nor  mishandling.  Then, 
from  the  list  of  subjects  rapidly  drawn  up  by  Harry, 
they  had  selected  and  hung  carefully,  in  order  of  style 


A  PANORAMA  OF  THE  PAST.  207 

and  personation,  in  the  press  along  one  whole  side  of 
the  room,  the  habits  that  illustrated,  at  familiar,  sa 
lient  points,  characters,  times,  and  fashions,  from  the 
days  of  the  Tudors  down  to  those  of  the  Puritans  in 
Old  and  New  England,  and  farther  on  to  recent  dates, 
of  which  they  had  more  local  and  immediate  tradition. 

Everything  had  been  so  exactly  parceled  and  ticketed 
in  the  putting  away  that  the  work  was  not  difficult,  and 
in  shorter  time  than  could  have  been  thought  possible 
the  quaintly  charming  spectacle  began  to  move  through 
the  semi-circular  musicians'  balcony,  which  overhung 
the  dancing-room,  opening  at  either  end  by  noiseless 
double  swing  doors  from  the  long  corridor. 

Luncheon  was  made  a  little  late  for  both  artistic 
and  domestic  convenience,  so  that  there  remained  more 
than  two  hours  for  the  performance. 

Ned  Chumley,  in  fult  wig  and  powder  and  grand  ju 
dicial  robes,  inaugurated  the  show  in  a  solemn  advance 
as  "Edmund  Cholmondeley,  peer  of  the  realm  and  Lord 
High  Chancellor  of  England  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the 
Eighth.  —  Nobody  is  to  dispute  anything,  "  added  Harry 
Henslee  to  his  announcement  made  through  a  narrow 
chink  of  the  entrance  door.  "We  haven't  the  exact 
documents  handy,  but  of  course  they  are  somewhere." 

Next  appeared  "Katharine  of  Aragon  and  Cardinal 
Wolsey, "  pacing  the  stage  with  a  slow  stateliness,  as  in 
sad  and  grave  discourse. 

Then  came  "Queen  Elizabeth  and  her  Mistress  of 
the  Robes  and  Dame  in  Waiting,  Lady  Thornilshaugh ; 
ancestress  of  our  Thornils,  -  -  the  '  haugh  '  dropped, 
probably,  when  some  younger  son  left  the  '  hedged  land  ' 
in  England,  to  come  over  here  and  help  himself  to  free 
forest." 

Estabel  was  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  ruff  and  farthingale 
and  jewels ;  and  carried  herself,  Harry  told  her  after 
ward,  "with  all  the  awful  Tudor  majesty;  "  perhaps  be 
cause  her  companion,  one  of  those  same  august  Thornils, 


208  SQUARE  PEGS. 

assumed  before  the  scenes  an  imperiousness  which  forced 
the  Queen's  to  a  higher  proportional  point,  and  might 
not  improbably,  behind  them,  have  ventured  some  slight 
ing  of,  or  trespass  upon  the  same  subordinate  authority 
which  it  now  fell  to  her,  with  a  certain  irony  of  dignity, 
to  represent. 

They  swept  across  the  stage  with  much  the  mutual 
air  they  might  have  had  if  the  choleric  Queen  had  just 
privately  boxed  the  ear  of  her  haughty  attendant ; 
Harry,  as  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  meeting  them  at  the 
opposite  end,  and  introducing  the  famous  "cloak  act." 
Upon  which,  Queen  Elizabeth  trampled  the  rich  gar 
ment  with  such  a  truly  regal  emphasis  that  Sir  "Walter, 
feeling  responsible,  and  perhaps  not  without  a  quickly 
perceptive  satisfaction  in  the  propriety  of  limiting  his 
courtesy  to  royalty  itself,  withdrew  it  prudently  and 
bowed  himself  aside,  letting  mv  Lady  Thornilshaugh 
walk  off  through  the  suppositions  puddle. 

Somehow,  though  he  might  reprehend  Estabel's 
"square  corners,"  he  never  really  allowed  anybody  else 
to  be  square-cornered  with  her. 

Followed,  Amy  Robsart  and- Janet  Foster  —  Elsie 
Crestonfield  and  Lilian ;  the  lovely  Countess  in  all  her 
innocent  bravery,  donned  for  her  Earl's  coming;  the 
Puritan  girl  in  demure  brown  gown,  cap  and  kerchief, 
prim  and  sweet. 

Leicester  and  the  varlet  Varney;  Tressilian,  in 
sober  russet ;  the  Queen  and  Amy,  in  the  pleasance  of 
the  castle.  The  Maiden  Monarch's  reign  and  uKenil- 
worth  "  were  rich  and  tempting  for  continuous  tableaux 
which  everybody  recognized. 

Then  they  dropped  suddenly  down  into  the  story  of 
the  Stuarts ;  and  there  was  "  Mistress  Cicely  Hawtree, 
North  Country  maiden,  one  of  the  several  who  hid 
or  helped  off  '  bonny  Prince  Charlie  '  in  his  many  hair 
breadth  'scapes;  "  grasping  his  hand  and  hurrying  him 
eagerly  along  as  to  some  secret  nook  of  refuge,  while  he 


A  PANORAMA  OF  THE  PAST.  209 

hung  back  and  recklessly  delayed,  to  drop  on  one  knee 
and  gallantly  kiss  the  fair  round  wrist. 

There  was  "Admiral  Blake  of  the  Protectorate,"  in 
the  Admiral  Henslee  uniform  of  a  half  century  or  more 
later  —  but  that  did  not  matter.  Afterward,  the 
"  Duke  of  Monmouth, "  in  plumed  helmet  and  hauberk 
of  pasteboard  with  inconsistent  ruffles  of  fine  cambric, 
"  and  the  Fair  Maids  of  Taunton, "  with  their  offerings 
of  flowers  and  Bible. 

Gently  along  the  stage  glided  a  graceful,  girlish  figure 
in  stomacher  and  hood,  declared  as  "My  Lady  of  Hens- 
leigh  —  1-e-i-g-h  —  of  Hensleigh  Abbey,  Warwickshire ; 
whence  came  down  the  name  —  a  good  way  down  —  into 
republican  conditions,  a  plainer  spelling,  and  practical, 
every-day  American  life. — My  Lady  of  Hensleigh," 
Harry  repeated,  with  an  involuntary  pleased  dwelling  on 
the  name,  at  which  he  caught  himself  and  blushed  hotly 
in  the  crack  of  the  door,  very  safely  out  of  observation. 

Lilian  did  not  blush,  nor  think  of  need;  her  sweet, 
large  eyes,  all  unconstrained  by  any  consciousness  save 
of  the  English  lady  of  high  degree  and  long  ago,  looked 
out  from  their  wimpled  shelter  and  met  the  flashlight 
of  sudden  curiosity  lifted  in  those  keener  eyes  below  as 
innocently  and  unwittingly  as  a  child. 

The  Peaceport  matrons  followed  her  lovely  movement 
from  her  pause  before  them  till  she  disappeared ;  then 
there  was  a  significant  slight  rustle,  and  without  other 
perceptible  expression  a  telepathic  query  ran  around, 
which  responded  to  itself  as  instantly,  while  the  alert 
but  well-controlled  observers  settled  back  into  their 
seats.  "Seventeen  —  perhaps  —  and  not  twenty.  Ab 
surd,  of  course.  But  who  is  she  ?  "  That  question 
reserved  itself. 

Pictures  of  Puritan  New  England  succeeded :  Miles 
Standish  and  his  wife,  Rose ;  Priscilla  Mullins  and  John 
Alden ;  Governor  Bradford  and  his  gracious  dame ; 
then,  with  historic  and  representative  rapidity,  Pres- 


210  SQUARE  PEGS. 

cott  at  Bunker  Hill ;  Thomas  Jefferson,  with  scroll  and 
pen ;  Washington  at  Valley  Forge ;  Washington  receiv 
ing  the  surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis ;  —  in  all  these  the 
same  performers  and  much  of  the  same  costuming  hav 
ing  to  do  repeated  hut  well-managed  duty. 

Last  of  everything,  the  lovely  "  Mistress  Dolly  Payne 
Todd,  and  her  '  great,  little  Madison, '  at  their  first 
interview;  "  the  eminent  James  in  long  coat,  knee- 
breeches  and  huckles,  and  exquisite  laced  ruffles  —  such 
as  were  cut  up  afterwards  for  tokens  by  rapacious  wed 
ding  guests  —  coming  in  first  at  one  door,  and  she  pre 
sently  from  the  other  end,  to  receive  him  with  shy  state- 
liness  in  her  "mulberry  satin,  silk  tulle  kerchief,  and 
dainty  little  cap." 

This,  enacted  con  amore,  and  with  really  charming 
grace,  by  the  two  Paynes,  lineal  descendants  of  the  old 
Virginia  family  and  the  Scotch  earl,  was  received  with 
double  interest  and  gr6at  applause,  and  left  the  com 
pany  in  happiest  appreciative  mood.  The  whole  was 
praised  in  voluble  recapitulation,  almost  to  excess,  for 
impromptu  cleverness  and  brilliant  execution. 

One  more  picture  had  been  proposed,  by  the  very 
dame  in  waiting  who  had  figured  with  Queen  Elizabeth, 
who  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  lovely  dress  of  comparatively 
recent  date  lying  in  a  large  box  which  Estabel  uncov 
ered,  to  replace  therein  some  plumes  and  mantles. 

"  Oh,  let  us  have  that !  "  the  girl  cried  eagerly,  lay 
ing  a  rash  hand  upon  the  pale-green  silken  folds,  over 
which  some  soft  paper  wrapping  was  pinned  that  but 
half  concealed  a  garniture  of  rich  laces  and  a  corsage 
knot  of  violet  flowers. 

Estabel  Charlock,  with  a  regardless  movement, 
brushed  away  the  intrusive  fingers,  as  she  proceeded 
with  her  work. 

Lilian  Hawtree  drew  Miss  Thornil  gently  back. 
"Hush,  please!  "  she  whispered.  "I  think  that  is  the 
gown  in  the  beautiful  picture  downstairs." 


A   PANORAMA   OF  THE   PAST.  211 

The  young  lady  moved  off,  very  much  with  the  air  of 
a  high  superior  with  whom  a  subaltern  has  dared  to 
expostulate. 

Harry  Henslee's  quick  eyes  and  ears  seldom  missed  any 
thing.  They  were  alive  to  all  to-day,  and  he  caught  the 
little  colloquy  and  movement.  "Thank  you  for  that," 
he  said  with  warmth,  coming  quietly  beside  Lilian  as 
she  helped  Estabel  smooth  down  the  last  articles  into 
the  chest ;  and  he  closed  the  lid  and  turned  the  key. 

During  the  descent  to  luncheon  that  reserved  inquiry 
came.  Who  was  the  pretty  Lady  of  Hensleigh  and  the 
Rose  of  the  Mayflower?  "Such  a  charming  little  per 
son.  Oh,  Hawtree?  Yes,  they  called  her  that,  in  her 
other  part.  —  Tojrfhorpe?  Are  you  sure?  I  don't 
think  I  know  the  name."  The  interest  dropped  away 
through  the  last  sentences  to  an  entire  indifference,  and 
the  speaker  adverted  with  a  marked  carelessness  to 
something  else. 

Harry  was  coming  down  just  behind,  with  Estabel, 
whose  head  went  up  to  Tudor  height  again,  and  re 
mained  so  through  the  luncheon,  and  until,  with  thanks 
and  gay  good-byes,  the  carriages  had  driven  away  from 
the  hall  door. 

Harry  caught  her  for  a  minute  a  little  apart,  as  the 
home  party  went  out  presently  to  the  peach  orchard, 
Miss  Henslee  walking  forward  with  Lilian. 

"  Why  are  you  up  on  such  tremendous  stilts  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"You  know.  You  heard."  And  she  mimicked. 
"'  Charming  little  person.'  People  are  always  '  per 
sons  '  when  they  aren't  personages.  '  Topthorpe?  Are 
you  sure  ?  Miss  —  Hawtree  ?  I  don't  think  I  know  the 
name.' — Hadn't  she  seen  the  girl?  As  if  people 
hadn't  any  business  with  names  until  they  had  been 
written  in  a  Topthorpe  heaven!  Oh,  that 's  your  nice 
little  round,  mean,  slippery  world,  in  its  gay  little 
orbit!" 


212  SQUARE   PEGS. 

Harry  laughed,  but  his  face  grew  grave  again.  "I 
wouldn't  be  bitter  about  it,"  he  said.  "It's  only  *a 
way  of  speaking.  It  doesn't  mean  much." 

Estabel  had  the  last  word.  "It  means  all  they  know 
how  to  mean,"  she  answered  scornfully. 

In  the  sweet  woods,  walking  home  in  the  twilight, 
they  forgot  it  all;  at  least,  for  the  time. 

Lilian  was  serenely  gay.  "What  a  wonderful  day  it 
has  been!  "  she  exclaimed.  "Have  n't  we  lived  through 
hundreds  of  years  ?  And  such  great,  strange  lives  ? 
And  all  locked  up  as  if  by  enchantment  in  that  old 
Press  Chamber!  You  were  quite  right  about  the  au 
dience,  Mr.  Henslee.  I  felt  as  if  they  were  all  there 
—  out  of  history,  and  Shakespeare,  and  Walter  Scott. 
It  wasn't  to-day,  at  all." 

"You  played  to  your  own  audience,  Miss  Hawtree. 
We  're  used  to  it.  We  've  had  all  the  old  toggeries 
out  before,  for  many  a  good  frolic ;  that  's  the  reason 
we  could  handle  them  so  fast.  But  we  have  never  had 
you  in  our  pictures  before.  We  shall  miss  you  after 
this." 

"Oh,  that  is  kind  of  you.  But  somebody  else  will 
come.  They  always  do.  I  'm  glad  it  was  I,  now,  for 
I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  have  just  such  an  '  after 
this. '  This  must  last ;  and  it  will.  Everything  does 
last." 

"No.     It  's  a  changing,  vanishing  world,  where  there 
is   'no   continuing   city.'      We're  always  told  so,    and 
it  's    borne    in   upon   me    forcibly.      This    summer  will- 
never  come  again,  and  it  's  almost  gone." 

"It  isn't  August  yet." 

"It  will  be  next  week;  and  then  oiir  summer  will  be 
over.  We  ought  to  have  had  the  whole  of  it." 

"We  never  get  the  whole  of  anything,"  asserted  Es 
tabel.  "I  shall  hate  August  and  Pequant." 

"I  've  got  all  this  to  carry  away, "  said  Lilian.  "It  is 
something  lovely  that  I  have  lived,  and  that  will  always 


A  PANORAMA   OF   THE   PAST.  213 

be  in  my  life.  I  think  life  is  the  forever  of  the  happy 
minutes." 

Estabel  had  marched  on,  where  the  path  had  nar 
rowed.  She  was  in  one  of  her  resentful  disgusts. 

"I  should  like  you  to  have  everything  all  the  time," 
said  Harry  suddenly,  as  he  leaned  over  Lilian  to  hold 
a  protruding  branch  out  of  her  way. 

"That  's  just  how  I  am  having  it.  It  takes  all  the 
time, "  she  answered  blithely. 

"It  seems  to  me  to  depend  less  on  time  than  on  con 
dition,"  Harry  replied  to  that. 

She  perceived  instantly.  It  was  curious  how  quickly 
she  took  a  thought,  and  how  unreadily  a  personality. 

"Well,  condition  takes  time  —  to  arrive.  That  is  a 
part  of  it.  We  're  all  growing  up  to  our  happiness  — 
slowly. " 

"And  to  see  some  people  have  things  is  an  educa 
tion." 

Perhaps  the  generality  of  this  last  speech  instinctively 
modified  the  significance  of  his  previous  words.  Or  per 
haps  it  sincerely  explained  the  process  by  which  the  im 
pulse  of  the  other  was  being  stirred. 

Or  —  they  were  only  seventeen,  and  not  twenty. 
There  could  hardly  be  any  weighty  significance  at  all. 

"We  had  a  great  piece  of  Peaceport  at  luncheon, " 
Estabel  told  Aunt  Esther  shortly,  in  answer  to  her  in 
quiries  of  their  day.  "Otherwise  it  was  peaceful." 

"Why,  Estabel!  "  exclaimed  Lilian  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  you  don't  know  what  I  mean.  You  never 
will.  You  carry  your  peace  with  you." 

"I  thought  everybody  was  lovely." 

Then  Estabel  laughed.  "Of  course  they  were.  I  'm 
cross.  There  was  just  one  little  —  ill  thorn  —  and  it 
pricked.  Never  mind." 

"They  were  all  here,"  said  Aunt  Esther,  dropping 
a  small  bomb  of  the  unexpected  into  the  conversation. 


214  SQUARE  PEGS. 

" Here!     What  for?" 

"To  see  me  —  and  to  wait  for  a  horse  to  be  shod — • 
and  to  buy  Lilian's  bonnet.  Young  Mrs.  Crestonfield 
took  it,  and  paid  ten  dollars  for  it.  I  told  her  it  was 
a  sample,  and  that  I  couldn't  get  another;  and  then, 
of  course,  she  would  have  it  all  the  more." 

"But  you  will  have  another.  I  want  you  to  let  me 
make  up  that  brown  rough-and-ready,  with  maize-col 
ored  ribbons  and  brown  and  golden  chrysanthemums," 
said  Lilian  gayly. 

"This  wasn't  their  straight  way  to  the  High  Quar 
ries,"  persisted  Estabel. 

"No.  But  the  horse's  shoe  was  loose  when  they 
drove  out  of  Henslee  Place,  and  there  's  no  blacksmith 
at  the  Corners ;  so  they  came  round  through  here  to  the 
Ravine  Road." 

"Don't  make  another  bonnet,  Miss  Hawtree.  You 
don't  know  who  may  get  it, "  said  Harry  Henslee,  as 
he  shook  hands  and  bade  good-night. 

Estabel,  in  her  turn,  gave  his  hand  a  big  squeeze. 
"You  don't  like  some  things  any  better  than  I  do,  when 
it  comes  to  the  point,  after  all." 

"There's  an  eternal  fitness  in  things,"  Harry  an- 
swei'ed. 

"  Chooty-choo !  "  said  Miss  Charlock  all  to  herself  on 
her  way  upstairs. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

PICKED   UP   IN   THE    WOODS. 

THE  Clymer  carriage  and  pair  glittered  and  pranced 
through  Stillwick,  to  bring  Estabel  Charlock  over  to 
Pequant. 

Mrs.  Clymer  did  not  come  for  her;  she  really  had 
a  slight  headache  in  the  morning,  and  gave  that  reason 
in  her  little  note  and  message.  In  more  predominant 
fact,  however,  she  preferred  for  Estabel  the  consequence 
and  e'clat  of  an  arrival  and  welcome  by  her  sole  self  in 
the  face  of  the  afternoon  piazza  company  at  the  Sachem 
House.  Awaiting  her  here,  she  could  put  the  whole 
matter  so  much  more  in  evidence  than  if  they  just  drove 
up  together  with  no  occasion  for  a  stir.  Mrs.  Clymer 
always  liked  to  put  her  elegant  movements  in  evidence. 
It  was  a  turnout  wasted,  if  she  went  and  came  without 
observation.  She  could  hardly  have  understood  Mrs. 
John  Gilpin,  whose  chaise 

"  was  not  allowed 
To  drive  up  to  the  door,  lest  all 
Should  say  that  she  was  proud." 

Nothing  superb  that  she  could  command  was  ever 
stayed  three  doors  off. 

The  arrival  and  welcome  were  to  be  even  more  marked 
than  she  had  forecasted.  Circumstances  played  into 
her  hand.  Something  like  the  interest  and  expectancy 
at  the  Bell  of  Edmonton  was  astir  upon  the  broad  col 
onnade  of  the  Sachem  at  Pequant  when  the  equipage  at 
last  rolled  up  the  drive. 

Estabel  left  Stillwick  in  her  solitary  state,  arrayed 


216  SQUARE  PEGS. 

in  a  perfectly  new  and  stylish  carriage  costume  which 
had  come  in  a  box  with  injunction  to  put  it  on  for  the 
ride.  She  cared  little  for  either  matter.  She  was  leav 
ing  Stillwick ;  she  was  going  into  a  new  location  and 
surrounding  of  that  same  difficult  and  uncongenial  world 
to  which  she  could  not  fit ;  for  which  she  felt  in  her 
own  intuition,  wiser  than  the  determinate  ambition  of 
Aunt  Vera,  that  she  was  unfitting  herself  continually  by 
a  forced  and  premature  pushing  forward  to  relation  with 
it.  "If  only  Aunt  Vera  would  let  me  wait  till  I  grow 
up  to  something!  "  she  reiterated  to  herself.  But  it 
was  of  no  use  to  say  that  again  to  Aunt  Vera. 

Marsden  Woods  reminded  her,  with  their  sweet,  re 
sinous  odors  and  their  still  repose,  too  much  of  the 
happy  coming  of  a  few  weeks  before  and  its  companion 
ship  ;  were  too  full  of  all  delight  that  she  was  relin 
quishing  to  be  enjoyed  according  to  her  wont.  Across 
Shoreham  Plains  the  way  was  dry  and  dull  and  glaring 
with  sun.  But  there  came  a  beautiful  and  novel  relief 
in  the  Long  Pines,  through  which  the  road  led  on  to 
Pequant  Beach,  —  a  stretch  of  dense,  spicy  shade,  open 
only  here  and  there  in  bright  glades,  where  pasture 
bushes  grew,  and  big  blackberries  ripened,  so  far  from 
villages  and  farm  places  that  they  were  seldom  raided. 
And  in  the  surprise  of  quiet  and  freshness  the  girl's 
spirits  rose ;  and  when  now.  and  again  a  whiff  of  sea 
breeze  stole  across  the  sleepy  downs,  and  mingled  itself 
with  the  pine  fragrance,  she  gathered  cheer  and  thought, 
"There  are  the  woods  and  the  sea,  after  all;  what  does 
anything  else  matter!  "  Yet  she  ended  with  a  sigh, 
"If  only  I  had  Lilian!  " 

So  certain  it  is  that  we  want  the  human,  however  — 
and  all  the  more  therefore  —  the  material  may  environ 
us  with  charm  and  harmony.  Estabel  hummed  to  her 
self  in  an  undertone,  covered  by  the  soft  crush  of  wheels 
upon  the  sand  and  needles,  and  the  thud  of  hoofs,  a 
modified  fragment  of  old  "Greenland." 


PICKED   UP  IN   THE   WOODS.  217 

"  What  though  the  spicy  breezes 
Blow  soft  o'er  shore  and  isle, 
Though  every  prospect  pleases, 
And  only  —  folks  —  are  vile  !  " 

"I  wonder  how  it  will  be!  I  oughtn't  to  say  quite 
that,  I  suppose;  but  it's  in  the  hymn,  and  'vile'  is 
'  vulgar, '  and  it  's  vulgar  to  call  everybody  else  so,  I 
am  sure.  Lilian  would  find  somebody  —  but  I'm  not 
Lilian.  That  's  why  I  want  her.  She  's  a  born  mis 
sionary.  Her  soul 's  lighted,  and  she  has  enough  to- 
light  up  everybody's  else  with.  She  's  no  stingy  wise 
virgin.  I  'm  always  under  an  extinguisher,  or  shut  up 
in  a  dark  lantern.  Heigh-ho !  " 

A  turn  in  the  road  brought  them  suddenly  out  into 
one  of  the  brief  spaces  of  turf  and  herbage.  It  wound 
and  widened  from  the  woodway  to  the  left,  offering 
enticement  of  wild  blossom  and  fruit ;  there  was  the 
scent  of  pennyroyal  and  everlasting  in  the  air  and  among 
shrubbery  of  low  cedar  and  juniper;  the  blackberry 
vines  were  rampant  and  rich  with  their  heavy  clusters. 
Estabel  longed  to  stop  the  carriage  and  get  out  and 
gather;  but  the  time  was  limited.  Her  aunt  expected 
her  before  the  tea  hour,  and  she  was  particular  about 
her  horses,  to  say  nothing  of  the  risk  of  high  profes 
sional  objections ;  so  they  rolled  on  into  the  closing 
shade  again. 

Just  in  the  edge  of  forest  line  they  came  upon  a  sin 
gular  group.  Two  young  girls,  —  one  of  whom  sat  for 
lornly  upon  a  stump,  while  the  other,  alert  and  anxious, 
stood  erect,  watching  the  road  either  way  as  for  any 
sign  of  coming,  —  appeared  to  view  by  the  wayside,  and 
sprang  up  and  forward  at  the  approach  of  the  carriage. 
Not  country  girls,  very  evidently,  but  daintily  appar 
eled,  and  quite  obviously  strange  to  their  surroundings. 
A  basket  of  berries  and  a  loose  heap  of  flowers  and 
vine  trails  had  been  carelessly  set  down,  and  dropped, 
upon  the  ground  at  their  feet.  Beyond  them,  almost 


218  SQUARE  PEGS. 

hidden  in  a  clump  of  trees,  showed  two  slender  wheels 
of  some  vehicle  in  an  unaccountable  position,  as  if  it 
had  been  turned  forcibly  into  the  impenetrable  thicket. 
A  nearer  look,  as  the  coachman  drew  up  his  horses,  dis 
covered  a  light  chaise,  with  a  placid  pony  headed  right 
in  among  the  scrub,  but  standing  patiently  in  the  thills, 
which  were  very  much  compressed  toward  each  other, 
and  held  him  fast  on  either  side  between  two  sturdy 
birch  boles. 

"He  got  in  there  while  we  were  just  round  here  in 
the  pasture, "  explained  the  young  girl  who  first  came 
forward,  while  the  other,  for  some  unintelligible  reason, 
had  turned  away  and  gone  back  to  her  stump.  Mani 
festly,  she  was  not  the  responsible  person,  nor  quite 
comfortable  in  the  disclosure  of  their  predicament. 

"He  always  stands  or  follows  on  when  we  get  out. 
We  're  so  proud  of  his  wise  ways,  and  he  's  so  proud  to 
be  trusted.  How  he  came  to  do  this  I  cannot  tell;  but 
there  's  no  possibility  of  our  getting  him  out,  and  this 
is  such  a  lonely  road.  We  've  waited  here  nearly  an 
hour,  and  nobody  has  come  along." 

"Which  way  were  you  going?  "  asked  Estabel. 

"Back  to  Pequant.  We  're  staying  at  the  Sachem. 
I  'm  Mary  Brithwaite,  and  this  is  my  mother's  chaise 
and  pony." 

"I  can  take  you  both  with  me.  I  am  going  there 
myself.  But  Josiah  couldn't  leave  his  horses,  I'm 
afraid,  to  get  yours  out  of  his  trouble.  We  can  stop 
at  the  first  house  and  send  back  help,  if  that  will  do." 

Estabel  spoke  as  coolly  and  politely  and  of  course  as 
if  a  keen  look  at  the  quarter-face  of  the  girl  who  had 
sulked  away  had  not  revealed  to  her  that  which  Miss 
Brithwaite  now  made  an  ineludible  certainty. 

"Oh,  thank  you!  — Corinna!  — It  is  my  cousin,  Miss 
Chilstone.  —  Miss  —  ?  " 

"Estabel  Charlock,"  was  the  grave  reply,  and  the 
two,  without  either  sign  or  demur,  were  introduced. 


PICKED  UP  IN  THE  WOODS.  219 

Mary   Brithwaite  was   too   entirely  absorbed   with   her 
gratitude  and  her  care  for  her  pony  to  notice. 

"AVe  shall  be  so  very  much  obliged/'  she  went  on. 
"Socrates  will  stand  still,  if  I  tell  him  to.  We  were 
afraid  to  leave  him  at  first,  or  we  should  have  walked 
on  to  find  somebody.  Now,  he  '11  understand." 

She  went  down  into  the  underbrush  to  the  pony's 
head.  "Be  a  philosopher,  Socrates.  You're  all  right. 
You  needn't  be  ashamed,  and  we  won't  desert  you. 
We  're  only  going  for  some  one  to  take  care  of  you. 
You  hear?  You  '11  keep  quiet?  " 

Socrates  almost  seemed  to  smile  as  he  turned  his  head 
lovingly  over  his  mistress's  shoulder.  "How  can  I  do 
anything  else  ?  "  he  seemed  to  ask. 

"He's  hard  and  fast,  if  he  don't  kick,"  Josiah  as 
sured  the  young  lady  with  official  gravity. 

"He  doesn't  know  how  to  kick,"  Mary  Brithwaite 
answered  with  dignity. 

Corinna  Chilstone  took  her  place  in  silence  opposite 
her  cousin,  as  she  might  have  done  in  a  public  vehicle. 
Estabel,  by  a  well-timed  movement,  had  made  room  for 
the  latter  beside  herself.  She  did  not  think  it  necessary 
to  offer  a  change  of  seats  with  Miss  Chilstone. 

"  How  lucky  and  how  thankful  we  are !  "  said  the 
cordial  Mary  again.  "How  could  we  tell  who  might 
come  by?  I  was  half  afraid  of  anybody  that  it  might 
be.  Are  n't  you  glad,  Corinna?" 

"We  should  have  been  glad  of  a  haycart, "  returned 
that  young  woman,  catching  the  opportunity  for  an  os 
tensible  civility  that  could  compensate  itself  by  a  covert 
sneer.  And  that  was  all  she  vouchsafed,  of  utterance 
that  could  possibly  include  or  refer  to  Estabel,  the  en 
tire  way.  Mary  Brithwaite  would  have  been  surprised, 
if  the  girl  were  not  habitually  moody.  As  it  was,  she 
covered  her  moroseness  with  all  the  kindly  chatter  she 
could  think  of. 

A  farmer  was  found  who  agreed  to  "hitch  up  "  and 


220  SQUARE  PEGS. 

go  back  to  the  rescue  of  Socrates,  and  bring  the  "team  " 
to  the  Sachem  House. 

"Guess  ther  won't  be  no  defferkelty, "  he  said;  "on- 
less  an'  indeed  the  shaffs  is  broke.  Ef  they  is,  I  '11 
tie  'em  up,  somehow  er  nother,  so  's  't  to  tow  it  along. 
You  girls  needn't  be  the  least  grain  concerned.  I'll 
git  the  boss  home  all  right  anyhow;  an'  nobody  '11  med 
dle  with  the  shay  till  we  can  see  to  it." 

Mrs.  Clymer  sat  expectant  in  the  fringe  of  a  piazza 
group,  in  elegant  afternoon  array,  with  her  tatting  be 
tween  her  brilliantly  ringed  fingers,  and  a  book  open 
upon  her  knee. 

The  group  was  anxious ;  there  had  been  uneasy  ques 
tioning  and  calculating  about  the  other  party,  Mrs. 
Brithwaite  and  Mrs.  Chilstone  worrying  about  their 
daughters,  who  had  been  gone  nearly  four  hours.  Mrs. 
Brithwaite  feared  something  like  what  had  actually  hap 
pened,  from  the  limits  of  the  pony's  well-known  sagacity 
and  the  possible  imprudence  of  the  young  girls.  She 
had  said  little,  but  she  had  watched  and  listened  for 
every  wheel,  in  the  dread  that  Socrates,  left  too  much 
to  his  own  devices,  might  come  trotting  home,  leaving 
his  errant  mistresses  to  theirs  —  and  who  could  tell 
where  ? 

Mrs.  Clymer  had  remarked  that  her  niece  was  later 
than  she  had  supposed  she  would  be ;  but  in  the  real 
suspense  her  observation  had  dropped  unheeded.  She 
feared,  with  reason,  that  Estabel's  advent  might  in  like 
manner  be  overborne ;  all  the  more  excited  and  impor 
tant  was  she  when  her  barouche  wheeled  round  the 
curve,  bearing  its  three  occupants,  and  Mrs.  Brithwaite, 
catching  sight  of  Mary's  eagerly  outstretched  head,  and 
the  wave  of  her  handkerchief,  started  from  her  seat, 
and  flew  down  the  long  steps  to  the  drive,  followed  by 
her  whole  party  of  friends. 

Everybody  seemed  to  get  down  before  Aunt  Vera, 
although  she  certainly  now  had  a  common,  if  not  a  para- 


PICKED  UP  IN  THE  WOODS.  221 

mount  right  and  interest  with  everybody.      But  for  once 
Estabel  was  in  the  midst. 

"You  dear  girl!  "  Mrs.  Brithwaite  said  to  her,  still 
standing  with  her  arm  around  her  daughter's  waist,  as 
she  had  thrown  it  at  her  alighting,  and  reaching  out 
her  other  hand  to  Estabel  with  warm  seizure  and  thanks. 
"I  have  been  so  terrified!  You  have  been  so  good! 
Come  up  and  tell  me  all  about  it,  both  of  you."  And 
she  still  held  them  so,  although  Mrs.  Clymer  made  her 
way  to  them  and  claimed  her  niece  with  wondering  and 
delighted  welcome. 

"Oh,  don't  mind!  "  said  Estabel  with  embarrassment. 
"It  is  nothing.  I  just  happened  to  come  along.  Miss 
Brithwaite  will  tell  you." 

She  would  have  extricated  herself  with  her  aunt  and 
gone  apart;  but  her  aunt  would  not  be  extricated.  The 
little  story  was  told  and  received  with  renewed  gladness 
and  thanks,  both  to  Estabel  and  Mrs.  Clymer,  so  that 
the  soul  of  the  latter  swelled  with  satisfaction,  and  the 
girl's  correspondingly  rebelled. 

"  Come,  auntie ;  we  must  go  upstairs,  please, "  she 
said ;  and  then  when  she  had  got  her  to  the  doorway, 
"Don't  push!"  she  added,  with  low  emphasis  between 
closed  teeth. 

She  did  not  mean  impertinence ;  she  never  did ;  but 
character  was  asserting  itself;  the  higher  dominated; 
sixteen  was  admonishing  forty. 

Corinna  Chilstone  had  slipped  off  at  the  first.  "Such 
a  fuss !  "  she  whispered  scornfully,  on  her  part,  to  her 
mother.  And  Mrs.  Chilstone,  who  played  cribbage, 
responded  vulgarly,  "They  have  pegged  one,  I  suppose 
they  think.  But  that  doesn't  win  the  game." 

After  that,  for  several  days,  Estabel  sedulously 
avoided  not  only  the  Chilstones,  but  the  Brithwaites. 

"You  foolish  girl!"  her  aunt  remonstrated.  "You 
might  have  taken  your  place  here  at  once,  and  you 
won't.  You  throw  away  your  advantage." 


222  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"I  don't  want  advantage.      I  don't  see  any." 

"Why  don't  you  give  Corinna  Chilstone  a  chance  to 
speak  to  you?  She  owes  it  to  you." 

"I  don't  want  her  to  owe  me  anything." 

"What  is  the  use  of  putting  people  under  obligation, 
then?" 

"Not  the  least  use  in  the  world.  It  is  very  disagree 
able.  " 

"Oh,  you  're  an  odd  stick!  "  Mrs.  Clymer  ejaculated 
in  despair. 

Then  Estabel  relented,  as  usual.  "I  don't  mean  to 
be.  And  I  really  won't,  whenever  I  can  help  it." 

"Mrs.  Brithwaite  is  as  polite  as  possible." 

"Mrs.  Brithwaite  is  nice.  I'm  perfectly  willing  to 
be  polite  to  her,  but  I  won't  run  after  her." 

"You  set  people  against  you,  and  then  you  say  they 
are  n't  nice." 

"I  think  very  likely  I  do,  Aunt  Vera.  I  seem  to 
be  made  so." 

"You  're  not  so  much  made  yet,  that  you  can't  be 
altered.  It  is  your  duty  to  be  more  approachable." 

"I'm  right  here,"  answered  Estabel,  laughing. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    ROARING    GORGE. 

ONE  morning,  after  two  days  of  strong  east  wind 
and  mist,  the  sun  flung  away  the  fog,  the  weather  vanes 
pointed  to  the  westward,  and  the  great  rocks  reared 
their  gray  breasts,  softly  illumined,  against  the  crests 
of  the  incoming  tide. 

Roaring  Gorge  would  be  magnificent. 

Everybody  would  be  there. 

Rocks  are  free  to  everybody. 

Estabel  went  down  with  her  aunt  to  see  the  sea. 

Mrs.  Clymer  went  down  to  see  the  sea  —  and  the 
see-ers.  One  needs  to  spell  the  word  with  an  extra 
"e  "  for  fear  of  misconstruction.  Doubtless  there  were 
but  few  in  the  company  for  whom  it  could  be  written 
as  in  the  dictionary. 

All  over  the  jagged  little  promontory  which  ran  out 
to  challenge  and  oppose  the  waves,  and  had  stood  there 
till  its  very  heart  had  been  eaten  out  into  a  hollow,  in 
and  from  which  the  surges  poured  with  their  angry 
thunder  at  the  two  high  tides  each  day,  were  scattered 
groups  of  gay,  curious  watchers ;  the  many  colors  of 
women's  array  showing  like  beds  of  bloom  in  a  strange 
rock  garden  of  the  ocean-side ;  the  men  in  their  white 
ducks  and  coats  of  gray  or  black,  standing  or  moving 
about  among  them,  like  seabirds  lighted,  marveling, 
upon  the  one  rare  spot  so  pranked  in  all  the  wild  cliff 
range  that  up  and  down  the  gale-swept  coast  made 
boundary  and  haunt  for  only  strong-winged  creatures 
of  the  storm. 


224  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Mrs.  Clymer  came  down  the  rough  side  path  that  led 
to  the  narrow  strip  of  pebbly  beach  below  the  steep,  un 
covered  only  at  low  water,  and  made  her  way  to  a  flat 
projection  just  beneath  the  rocks  of  the  casual  "dress 
circle, "  most  brilliantly  crowded  and  gay  with  voices 
lifted  in  high  keys  to  ring  across  the  surf-boom,  even  in 
the  comparative  lull  of  its  rhythmic  retreat. 

She  made  apparently  her  choice  of  place.  She  always 
did ;  but  it  was  always  in  the  fringe.  She  exchanged 
a  nodding  salute  with  those  above  her  whom  she  knew ; 
more  was  not  possible.  She  escaped  any  palpable  neg 
lect.  If  Mrs.  Clymer  "pushed,"  it  was  not  until  she 
had  got  some  bit  of  purchase. 

Mrs.  Brithwaite,  sitting  far  up,  with  a  few  quiet 
people,  beckoned  her  daughter  from  the  gay  young  group 
next  lower.  "There  are  Miss  Charlock  and  her  aunt," 
she  said,  "on  the  Little  Flat.  Go  down  and  ask  them 
up  here.  We  can  make  room.  They  have  n't  a  nice 
place  at  all.  It  will  be  wet  there  presently." 

Mary  Brithwaite  tripped  off  lightly,  springing  sure 
footed  from  point  to  point  toward  the  pathway,  and 
came  down  with  her  mother's  message  to  the  two. 

Mrs.  Clymer  rose  alertly,  with  her  thanks.  Estabel 
followed  her  aunt's  movement  more  restrainedly.  In 
a  moment  more  they  were  in  a  lovely,  commanding  posi 
tion  with  the  others  above,  whence  they  could  look  di 
rectly  down  into  the  deep  cleft,  and  see  the  towering 
green  avalanches  come  rearing  on  and  fling  themselves 
into  the  mouth  of  the  narrow  inlet,  to  rush  far  under 
neath  and  out  of  sight,  roll  reverberating  through  their 
hidden,  mysterious,  self-hewn  chambers,  and  be  hurled 
back  by  their  own  recoil  at  the  present  limit  of  their 
age-long  work,  to  shatter  in  concussion  with  the  next 
assaulting  force,  in  a  cloud  of  foam,  that  threw  itself 
high  up  in  air,  and  fell  at  last  in  gentle  dispersion 
of  small  drops  that  often  sprinkled  their  light  spray 
over  the  heads  of  the  laughing  lookers-on. 


THE  ROARING  GORGE.  225 

Mrs.  Brithwaite  greeted  Estabel  and  her  aunt  cor 
dially.  "The  Gorge  is  grand  to-day,"  she  said.  "And 
how  beautifully  the  storm  has  cleared  away." 

Mrs.  Clymer's  sky  was  indeed  clear;  her  day  was 
radiant.  But  her  reply  was  swept  into  silence  by  a 
fresh  incoming  thunder  and  tremendous  outrush  of  the 
great  spout. 

"You  were  just  in  time,"  said  Mary  Brithwaite.  A 
crawling  spume  was  slipping  backward  into  the  sea  from 
the  surface  of  the  Little  Flat. 

"It  was  so  very  kind  of  you,"  returned  Mrs.  Clymer. 
"We  were  certainly  quite  careless." 

"Or  humble,"  Estabel  suggested;  "till  your  '  Friend, 
come  up  higher  '  beatified  us." 

The  momentary  pause  was  already  being  broken  by 
the  gathering  rumble  of  another  wave.  Perhaps  it  was 
this,  or  it  may  partly  have  been  the  detected  little  self- 
satire  in  Estabel's  speech,  which  suggested  Mrs.  Brith 
waite 's  word  before  the  crash  came. 

"It  is  useless  to  try  to  talk,"  she  declared.  "Those 
young  people  can  scream,  like  the  gulls.  I  think  older 
human  beings  are  willing  to  be  hushed." 

So  hushed  they  were,  gazing  and  listening  —  if  re 
ceiving  upon  one's  sense  a  crush  of  sound  can  be  called 
listening  —  while  the  ceaseless  grand  impulsion  of  the 
sea  and  the  roar  of  its  diapason  in  the  great  open  organ 
tubes  of  its  channeled  caverns,  went  on  and  on. 

But  after  a  while  the  immature  human  nature  grew 
sated. 

"  There  will  be  no  end  to  this  performance, "  declared 
a  restless  youth,  impatient  of  vicarious  activities. 
"There  is  no  curtain  to  go  down.  We  may  as  well  be 
off  and  get  up  something  for  ourselves." 

"It  is  almost  bathing  time,"  reminded  one  of  the 
girls. 

So  there  was  a  move.  The  little  company  broke  up 
variously,  climbing  over  the  rocky  way  toward  the 


226  SQUARE  PEGS. 

grassy  bank,  which  having  gained,  they  paused,  regath- 
ering  in  knots  for  plan  or  parley. 

Corinna  Chilstone,  under  her  aunt's  care  this  morn 
ing,  came  round  to  her,  bringing  an  eager  party  of 
young  friends,  and  an  appeal  for  concurrence  in  a  fresh 
suggestion. 

"We  want  to  walk  along  the  beach  to  Glynn  Point," 
she  told  the  lady.  "Won't  Molly  come?  " 

"  Mary  is  occupied  at  present  with  Miss  Charlock, " 
Mrs.  Brithwaite  answered  pointedly. 

"Oh,  there's  mamma!"  exclaimed  Corinna,  seizing 
a  diversion,  and  hastening  with  her  proposition  to  the 
superseding  authority. 

Mrs.  Chilstone  had  walked  over  from  the  hotel  to 
meet  the  returning  party,  and  had  almost  joined  them. 

"Corinna!" 

Mrs.  Brithwaite' s  voice  summoned  back  her  niece 
with  decision. 

"Your  aunt  is  speaking  to  you,"  Mrs.  Chilstone 
admonished  her;  and  between  the  two  Corinna  had  to 
yield.  The  Governor's  widow  could  be  decisive.  To  say 
nothing  of  position,  the  late  Governor's  estate  was  in 
her  sole  control  and  at  her  sole  disposal ;  the  Chilstone 
family  was  in  consequence  very  much  controlled  and 
disposed  by  her  also.  So  Corinna  turned  around  again. 

"I  wish  to  introduce  you  to  Miss  Charlock."  Mrs. 
Brithwaite  spoke  with  unmistakable  emphasis.  "Miss 
Charlock,  my  niece,  Miss  Corinna  Chilstone." 

But  the  perverse  young  woman  would  not  be  abashed. 
Her  little  clan  was  all  about  her ;  she  was  observed ; 
she  thought  herself  supported ;  she  would  not  be  com 
pelled  from  the  course  she  had  adopted. 

She  looked  into  her  aunt's  face  with  a  slowly  amused 
smile,  as  if  gradually  taking  in  a  not  very  pointed  little 
joke.  "Oh,  yes,"  she  said  lazily;  "it  has  happened 
to  me  before."  And  giving  Estabel  a  mere  compulsory 
short  nod,  she  was  turning  off  again. 


THE  ROARING  GORGE.  227 

But  Estabel  stopped  her  squarely.  This  snub  had 
been  a  double  one.  She  disposed  of  it  for  two.  With 
a  slight  step  forward,  and  her  head  held  high,  she 
looked  down  upon  Corinna's  lesser  height  right  royally, 
and  with  the  sweetest  air  of  playful  condescension,  said, 
so  clearly  that  every  one  could  hear,  — 

"Don't  mind,  Miss  Chilstone.  /respect  Mrs.  Brith- 
waite's  kind  intention.  But  an  introduction  only  means, 
'  You  may  if  you  please,'  you  know;  and  if  we  don't 
please,  it  won't  matter  how  many  times  we  are  intro 
duced.  Nothing  can  make  us  acquainted,  unless  we 
choose;  not  even  if  we  were  lost  in  the  woods  together 
for  a  week." 

Deliberately,  without  the  least  flurry  or  excitement, 
she  said  it ;  and  then,  with  a  little  movement  that 
might  hint  a  courtesy  or  a  finality,  she  dropped  back  to 
Mrs.  Brithwaite's  side,  frankly  holding  out  her  hand 
to  her. 

"Good-morning,"  she  said.  "I  thank  you  and  Miss 
Brithwaite  for  a  very  pleasant  time.  You  are  ready, 
Aunt  Vera  ?  "  And  Aunt  Vera  had  no  choice. 

They  walked  away,  leaving  a  little  pause  of  well-bred 
surprise  behind  them. 

"Now  you  have  done  it!"  Mrs.  Clymer  exploded 
upon  Estabel  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing. 

"I  have  learned  how,"  the  girl  answered  calmly. 

With  the  others,  after  the  arrested  instant,  came 
comments. 

"  What  an  extraordinary  girl !  "  said  one  stereotyped 
young  lady. 

"Gave  it  to  her  there,  didn't  she?  Straight  be 
tween  the  eyes !  " 

"Jove,  she  's  plucky!      She  '11  do,  yet." 

A  jury  of  two  —  gilded  youths  —  on  the  outskirt  of 
the  little  throng  mutually  declared  these  findings  of  the 
case. 

Meanwhile  Corinna  Chilstone  was  carrying  it  off,  as 


228  SQUARE  PEGS. 

she  thought,  superiorly.  "You  never  can  tell  what 
that  sort  of  person  will  do  next,"  she  said.  "That  is 
why  I  keep  clear  of  them." 

"It  is  only  that  sort  of  person  who  can  do  the  next 
thing  so  appositely,"  Mrs.  Brithwaite  answered.  "But 
you  are  quite  wise  —  on  your  own  part  —  Corinna." 

Then  Corinna  knew  that  her  aunt  was  thoroughly 
displeased  with  her,  and  had  definitively  "taken  up  " 
Estabel  Charlock. 

"It  is  of  no  use  to  fight  against  Aunt  Brithwaite's 
fads, "  she  remarked  nonchalantly  to  a  companion,  as 
they  strolled  away  after  the  general  lead  toward  the 
beach.  "The  only  way  is  to  let  them  drop." 

Mrs.  Chilstone  tried  to  smooth  things  with  her  sister. 

"Girls  won't  always  take  to  each  other,  you  know," 
she  said.  "This  Miss  Charlock  may  he  very  well  in 
her  way;  hut  Corinna  somehow  hasn't  cared  to  notice 
her,  and  she  seems  up  on  her  dignity  accordingly." 

"It  is  dignity,"  said  Mrs.  Brithwaite.  "There  is 
a  difference  between  that  and  insolence." 

"  Oh,  she  has  the  making  of  it  in  her, "  admitted  the 
woman  of  the  world,  appreciative  after  her  sort,  but 
obtuse  to  the  distinction.  "She  might  be  in  society 
fast  enough,  if  it  weren't  for  that  impossible  aunt." 

By  all  which  little  interludes  it  may  appear  that 
Estabel  had  not  absolutely  "done  it" — yet  —  in  the 
sense  which  Mrs.  Clymer  apprehended. 

She  had  only  taken  the  enemy's  battery,  and  turned 
its  guns  in  effective  self-defense. 

That  is  not  a  desirable  necessity  in  any  human  affairs, 
and  it  may  be  all  very  petty  in  this  especial  illustration ; 
but  the  same  human  conditions  and  compulsions  are  in 
great  and  small ;  and  we  have  not,  alas !  arrived  at  the 
millennium  as  yet. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

HIGHLAND    NORA. 

IP  it  had  stopped  there,  Estabel  had  really  done 
pretty  well  for  herself;  counting  it  pretty  well  to  have 
made  an  impression  where  she  would  certainly  not  have 
made  a  voluntary  effort  to  impress  at  all. 

Mrs.  Brithwaite  was  stanch  to  her.  Mary  declared 
that  she  was  "simply  splendid."  "Splendidly  simple" 
would  have  put  it  more  exactly;  perhaps  that  was  what 
Mary  Brithwaite  meant. 

The  gilded  youths  who  had  given  verdict  for  her  in 
vited  her  to  dance. 

A  large  party  came  over  from  Peaceport  for  a  week; 
tableaux  and  charades  became  the  order  of  the  evenings ; 
the  Peaceport  girls  remembered  Estabel's  clever  man 
agement  and  beautiful  acting  at  Henslee  Place,  and  she 
was  brought  into  request. 

It  was  so  simply  her  delight  that  she  never  thought 
of  compliment,  but  took  her  part  just  as  she  had  played 
Ellen  Douglas  in  Aunt  Esther's  orchard — -to  her  real 
comradery  in  song  and  story,  rather  than  to  any  polite, 
admiring  society  audience. 

She  was  "Highland  Nora,"  in  Scott's  charming  bal 
lad,  and  was  most  thoroughly  and  essentially  her  own 
proud  little  self  in  it ;  with  Harry  Henslee,  who  had 
come  down  for  a  few  days  with  them,  as  "the  Earlie's 
son ;  "  and  no  less  a  person  than  Dr.  North  himself, 
also  persuaded  into  a  twenty-four  hours'  visit,  as  "Old 
Callum."  To  Estabel's  astonishment  he  acquiesced 
without  so  much  as  a  "pooh-pooh!  "  to  her  request.  He 


230  SQUARE  PEGS. 

seemed  somehow  really  glad  to  see  her  and  oblige  her; 
and  gave  himself  up,  apparently,  for  the  brief,  unusual 
space,  to  such  amusement  as  was  offered.  Once  in  a 
great  while  something  in  his  nature  broke,  as  it  were, 
through  a  sternly  maintained  abstinence  and  restraint, 
and  betrayed  a  different  possibility  —  the  man  who, 
ordinarily,  Ulick  North  would  not  be. 

Mrs.  Brithwaite  read  the  recitative  verses  beautifully 
as  the  acted  picture  went  on,  leaving  the  quoted  lines 
to  the  personages  themselves,  the  alternations  playing 
in  to  each  other  with  absolute  smoothness  and  great 
effect. 

"  Hark,  what  Highland  Nora  said." 

she  began,  the  words  falling  musically  upon  the  silence 
as  the  curtain  slowly  rose  and  disclosed  Nora,  in  plaid 
and  kirtle,  with  snooded  hair,  and  an  eagle  plume  in 
her  little  Highland  cap.  And  Nora  took  it  up  with 
quick  and  naive  empressement :  — 

"  The  Earlie's  son  I  wadna  wed, 
Should  a'  the  race  o'  Nature  dee, 
An'  nane  be  left  but  him  an'  me. 
For  a'  the  gowd  an'  a'  the  gear, 
An'  a'  the  laii's,  baith  far  an'  near, 
That  ever  valor  lost  and  won, 
I  wadna  wed  the  Earlie's  son." 

And  "  Old  Callum, "  who  had  stolen  with  ancient, 
tottering  steps  upon  the  stage  behind  her,  began  in 
tremulous  falsetto  — 

"  A  maiden's  vows  "  — 

"  Old  Callum  spoke," 

interpolated  Mrs.  Brithwaite's  clear,  sweet  chorus  — 
and  Old  Callum  went  on :  — 

"  Are  lichtly  made,  an'  lichtly  broke. 
The  heather  on  the  mountain  height 
Begins  to  bloom  in  purple  light ; 


HIGHLAND  NORA.  231 

The  frost  win'  sune  shall  sweep  away 
That  lustre  deep  f  ra'  glen  an'  brae  ; 
But  Nora,  ere  its  bloom  be  gone, 
May  blithely  wed  the  Earlie's  son." 

With  a  proud  light  in  eye,  and  spring  in  step,  and 
vibrance  in  voice,  Nora  came  farther  forward :  — 

"  The  wildin'  swan  the  lake's  clear  breast 
May  barter  for  the  eagle's  nest ; 
The  Awe's  fierce  stream  may  backward  turn ; 
Ben  Cruachan  fa',  an'  crush  Kilchurn ; 
Our  kilted  clan,  when  blood  is  high, 
Before  their  foes  may  turn  an'  fly  : 
But  I,  were  a'  these  marvels  done, 
Wad  never  wed  the  Earlie's  son." 

Anything  more  natively  superb  than  her  air  and  tread 
across  the  stage,  as  these  last  lines  fell  ringing  from  her 
scornful  lips  that  curled  away  from  the  flashing  edges 
of  small  white  teeth,  could  hardly  be  imagined ;  and 
then  Old  Callum  stole  apart,  but  lingered  in  the  side 
distance,  keenly  watching,  while  the  last  stanza  was 
recited  with  a  telling  quietness,  and  just  before  it  ended 
appeared  the  consummating  illustration  —  the  Highland 
Maid  and  her  lordly  lover ;  the  cairngorm  jewels  gleam 
ing  in  his  bonnet,  waved  exultingly  in  one  hand,  while 
the  other  held  sweet  Nora  round  the  waist,  her  pride 
all  given  away,  her  eyes  gently  shining,  her  lips  shy 
and  tender,  and  her  head  bent  softly  toward  his  shoul 
der:  — 

"  Still  in  the  water  lily's  shade 
Her  wonted  rest  the  wild  swan  made  ; 
Ben  Cruachan  stands  as  firm  as  ever ; 
Still  onward  flows  the  Awe's  fierce  river ; 
To  shun  the  clash  of  foeman's  steel 
No  Highland  brogue  has  turned  the  heel; 
But  Nora's  heart  is  lost  and  won  : 
She  's  wedded  to  the  Earlie's  son." 


232  SQUARE  PEGS 

She  came  off  the  scene,  when  the  curtain  had  fallen, 
laughing.  The  Earlie's  son  looked  at  her  with  a  cer 
tain  newly  touched  delight.  But  she  was  back  again 
instantly,  in  herself;  she  was  Estabel  Charlock  and  he 
only  Harry  Henslee ;  it  had  not  mattered  who  he  was, 
except  that  she  could  act  intimately  with  him  in  the 
cousinly  intimacy  of  her  whole  life.  In  the  song,  she 
had  been  Highland  Nora,  whom  strong  love,  in  the  ab 
stract,  such  as  Estabel  might  only  know  abstractly,  had 
vanquished  into  happiness. 

Old  Callum  stood,  oblivious,  where  he  had  been  left. 

"Wad  she  wed  the  Earlie's  son?  "  was  dimly  shaping 
itself  to  query  in  his  mind. 

But  what  had  he  to  do  with  it,  if  she  would  ?  He 
supposed  money  and  family  were  apt  to  carry  the  day, 
by  some  latent  force,  however  scorned  and  unacknow 
ledged. 

Estabel  Charlock  was  a  woman;  she  would  doubtless 
do  as  women  do. 

He  shook  himself  alertly  to  his  natural  height  and 
poise.  Old  Callum  was  no  more.  Dr.  North  betook 
himself  to  his  own  room,  and  changed  his  dress. 

Out  in  the  audiejice,  if  there  were  any  who  remem 
bered  the  "Lady  of  Hensleigh  "  and  their  curiosity 
concerning  her,  they  forgot  it  now;  a  new  unspoken 
suggestion  replaced  it;  one  of  those  "what  ifs?  "  sprang 
up,  that  are  always  springing,  and  as  continually  dying 
out. 

"Are  they  cousins,  you  say?  —  Why,  yes;  his  grand 
mother  was  a  Charlock  —  that  wonderful  Eleanor,  you 
know.  I  never  thought  of  it  before.  Really,  it 
wouldn't  be  very  strange.  — How  grandly  she  did  it!  " 

Estabel  was  very  near  the  top  of  the  local,  temporary 
little  social  wave. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

ONLY    JUST    BEHIND    HER    FACE. 

DR.  NORTH  went  back  to  his  office  and  his  patients 
the  next  morning.  A  day  and  a  night  were  the  most 
he  would  ever,  and  very  rarely,  spare  at  once,  although 
his  ordinary  work  could  be  safely  left  with  his  college 
chum  and  medical  exchange.  There  was  a  curious  feel 
ing  in  him,  somehow,  which  he  would  not  examine  to 
diagnose,  that  lie  rather  wished  he  had  not  spared  them 
now.  "  It  only  discontents  a  fellow, "  he  said,  as  he 
smoked  his  solitary  pipe  at  bedtime. 

Dr.  North  knew  very  well  that  his  life  must  probably 
run  on  present  lines  for  years  to  come.  Society  — 
"nonsense"  —were  not  for  him.  They  could  lead  to 
nothing.  They  only  unfitted.  He  looked  facts  in  the 
face  so  much  more  coolly  and  reasonably  now  than  he 
had  done  in  that  short,  rudely  shattered  dream  of  four 
years  ago.  Then,  love  and  hope  could  have  done  every 
thing.  Love  and  hope  were  gone.  Unrelenting,  prac 
tical  realities  alone  remained. 

"What  a  fool  I  was!  "  he  exclaimed  inwardly.  He 
did  not  mean  four  years  ago ;  he  meant  last  night.  He 
thought  he  meant  only  his  absurd  ballad  acting. 

Before  breakfast  he  had  found  Estabel  alone  on  the 
piazza  that  overlooked  the  sea.  She  loved  it  at  that 
time,  before  it  became  the  mise  en  scene  of  the  flutter- 
life  of  the  great  hotel. 

She  stood  by  the  rail  as  Dr.  North  came  out.  He 
stopped  on  the  threshold,  and  would  have  turned,  but 
that  she  turned  more  quickly. 

"Good-morning!  "   she  said  gayly.       "The    morning 


234  SQUARE  PEGS. 

says  that  itself.  You  can't  be  going  to  spoil  the  sea 
breeze  with  tobacco  smoke  ?  "  For  the  doctor  had  cigar 
and  match  in  hand. 

"I  thought  you  did  not  mind?  " 

"Not  indoors,  where  I  'm  used  to  it,  and  where  it 's 
stuffy  at  any  rate.  But  where  we  can  get  this!  I 
meant  you  would  spoil  it  for  yourself." 

"As  people  do  a  good  many  things."  But  he 
scratched  his  match  and  flung  it  away,  and  held  his 
cigar  unlighted.  He  might  as  well  speak  to  the  child ; 
he  would  be  off  when  breakfast  should  be  over. 

"You  had  a  fine  time  last  night,"  he  said  common- 
placely.  "Different  from  this.  But  I  suppose  you 
liked  it  —  as  you  do  the  cigar  —  indoors.  Rather  a 
singular  idiosyncrasy,  that,  too.  The  contrary  is  more 
common." 

"Isn't  the  contrary  very  common  with  you,  Dr. 
North  ?  "  she  retorted  to  the  bit  of  cynicism  she  de 
tected  in  his  remark. 

Dr.  North  laughed.  Estabel's  directness,  and  the 
touchiness  so  easily  provoked  to  it,  always  amused  him. 

"I  thought  it  seemed  to  be  '  flowers  and  rainbows.' 
Aren't  you  rather  in  the  midst  just  now?  " 

"There  isn't  any  midst.  It  doesn't  hold  anything. 
I  think  scarcely  anything  does.  What  does  it  amount 
to  ?  I  shall  never  see  these  people  again  —  most  of 
them.  I  don't  know  anything  of  their  lives,  nor  they 
of  mine." 

"All  those  '  any  things  '  in  the  sense  of  nothings. 
Yet  you  liked  it.  And  possibly  it  amounts  to  an  indi 
cation  that  you  may  have  more  of  the  same  sort,  when 
you  want  it  and  will  take  the  trouble  for  it.  I  sup 
pose  you  know  that  you  are  clever  —  and  that  you  are 
growing  pretty,  after  all." 

Whether  he  said  that  for  keen  test  of  her,  or  aggra 
vation  to  himself,  or  simply  because  he  could  not  help 
saying  it,  would  not  be  easy  to  determine.  He  did  not 


ONLY  JUST  BEHIND  HER  FACE.  235 

always  understand  himself  when  he  was  with  Estabel, 
shrewdly  as  he  may  have  thought,  or  sought,  to  under 
stand  her. 

"  Do  you  truly  think  that,  Dr.  North  ?  "  There  was 
unmistakable  delight  in  her  quick  response. 

"Perhaps  I  would  better  not  have  said  it." 

"Oh,  I  am  glad  you  did.  It  was  kind  of  you.  It 
has  done  me  good." 

Her  bright,  pleased  look  met  his  without  embarrass 
ment.  Would  he  rather  she  had  been  embarrassed? 
Would  he  have  thought  better  of  her  —  or  would  he 
have  been  better  content  with  the  personal  power  of  his 
own  brusque  compliment  ? 

Fresh  and  sweet  with  the  joy  of  the  morning  —  of 
the  day  and  of  her  own  young  life  —  the  beauty  of  the 
morning  was  certainly  upon  her.  She  was  rounding 
into  fair  contours.  The  brow  was  widened  with  her 
dawning  thought ;  all  her  color  was  deeper,  stronger 
with  life.  Her  pale-tinted  hair  was  turning  tawny; 
she  was  going  to  be  one  of  Holmes 's  "leonine  blondes." 
She  had  the  "lion's  eye,"  as  an  artist  has  called  it; 
the  feature  in  which  dwells  the  lion's  nobleness;  the 
deeply  dinted  lids,  the  firm,  brave  setting;  the  hue  of 
chrysoberyl,  lighted  with  golden  fire. 

Standing  there,  in  her  simple  gingham  morning  gown 
buttoned  from  throat  to  belt,  with  narrow  linen  collar 
and  cuffs  of  faultless  white,  she  flashed  this  look  of  a 
beautiful  moment  upon  Ulick  North. 

He  tried  to  see  nothing  in  it  but  her  gladness  at  being 
told  that  she  was  pretty. 

Footsteps  and  voices  sounded  in  the  hall  behind  them ; 
people  were  coming  out ;  Dr.  North  walked  away. 

"A  woman's  heart  is  only  just  behind  her  face,"  was 
the  silent  irony  with  which  he  was  defending  himself  — 
from  what  ? 

To-night,  with  his  lonely  pipe  and  these  intruding 
reminiscences,  he  grew  restlessly  irritated. 


236  SQUARE  PEGS. 

He  took  down  a  big  volume  from  his  professional 
shelves ;  perhaps  to  verify,  if  possible,  the  extraordinary 
anatomical  assertion  he  had  made  to  himself  some  dozen 
hours  before. 

But  it  was  not  physiology  that  puzzled  or  could  help 
him;  his  question  was  of  no  bodily  organism  whose 
place  and  use  might  be  defined  and  action  predicated ; 
it  was  of  that  curious  thing  to  him,  a  woman's  soul; 
what  it  was  made  of,  where  it  was  seated,  what  it 
would  be  likely  to  do  —  with  the  woman  and  with  what 
ever  other  human  life  hers  touched. 

"It  is  right  behind  her  face  —  and  stops  there,"  he 
was  repeating  determinedly  to  himself,  and  thinking  of 
a  woman  who  had  once  most  nearly  interested  him,  and 
of  a  girl  who  was  beginning  —  in  other  fashion  —  quite 
philosophically,  he  thought  —  to  interest  him  now. 

"  It  is  *  how  I  look, '  and  '  how  people  think  I  look ;  ' 
it  is  '  Can  I  be  the  belle  of  the  ball  ?  '  and  '  Rose  col 
ored  curtains  for  the  doctors.'  It  begins  with  Flora 
MacFlimsey  and  it  ends  with  Mrs.  Skewton  —  always." 

That  "always"  was  a  word  of  habit  with  him;  his 
deductions  were  general  and  decisive ;  it  was  his  great 
est  mistake.  In  asserting  his  rule,  he  disregarded  the 
exceptions. 

He  did  not  yet  understand  Estabel  Charlock  at  all. 

Meanwhile,  Estabel  was  thinking  over  what  he  had 
said  to  her,  and  the  way  in  which  he  had  left  her  with 
out  another  word.  It  came  back  to  her  —  his  words 
and  ways  were  very  apt  to  come  back  to  her  in  a  kind 
of  judgment  —  with  a  keen,  mixed  remembrance. 

There  was  the  pleasure  that  Ulick  North,  who  had 
told  her  once  so  scornfully  that  she  might  stand  looking 
in  the  glass  forever,  but  she  would  never  be  a  beauty  — 
had  owned,  to  her  face,  quite  needlessly,  and  as  if  he 
could  not  help  it,  that  she  was  growing  pretty.  He 
had  not  put  that  other  assertion  precisely  as  she  chose 
to  put  it  now;  that  was  the  shape  to  which  her  mind 


ONLY  JUST  BEHIND  HER  FACE.  237 

had  moulded  it ;  she  drew  her  own  corollaries,  as  he 
drew  his,  and  the  little  hurt  and  discouragement  of  this 
had  fixed  itself  within  her  as  one  of  the  hard  small 
facts  accepted  from  her  experience. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  had  been  his  look,  as  he 
regretted  and  half  took  back  what  he  had  said;  dis 
claimed,  at  any  rate,  the  possible  inference  that  he  was 
personally  pleased  with  her.  There  had  been  a  touch 
of  the  old  scorn,  a  contempt  that  she  was  pleased  with 
herself;  she  had  seen  it  upon  lip  and  eyelid  as  he  had 
turned  away.  Her  own  inward  utterance  was  the  com 
plement  to  his,  "He  thinks  I  am  only  skin  deep." 

She  knew  so  well  that  it  was  not  mere  trivial  vanity 
that  moved  her ;  it  was  the  justified  longing  for  her 
part  and  share  of  the  everlasting  grace  and  harmony 
which  are  the  outcome  of  the  beautiful,  everlasting 
truth.  It  would  be  the  same  with  her  behind  a  kitchen- 
garden  fence  or  in  a  grand  assembly.  She  wanted  to 
be.  On  a  desert  island  she  would  have  been  happy  as 
Miranda;  a  creature  made  in  loveliness,  and  waiting 
for  its  lovely  mission.  No  expression  but  of  the  best, 
in  actual  and  possible,  would  have  been  tolerable  or 
in  genuine  relation  to  her.  Caliban  and  Sycorax  were 
not  of  her  humanity. 

Why  could  not  Ulick  North  recognize  in  her  this 
latent  verity  ?  If  she  cared  for  praise,  for  finding  that 
she  could  please,  it  was  that  this  confirmed  her  in  her 
hope,  —  that  beauty  and  pleasing,  and  all  that  these  two 
signified,  in  a  life  not  yet  fathomed  by  her  or  even 
guessed,  were  not  apart  from  her  and  unattainable,  but 
that  she  should  yet  become,  and  illustrate  her  own  one 
form  and  quality  of  a  divine  and  multifold  meaning. 

How  much  of  this  may  be  true  of  many  a  girl  who 
prinks  before  her  glass  and  whose  face  lights  up  at  a 
compliment?  Judge  not. 

With  the  love  and  desire  for  beauty,  born  and  grow 
ing  in  her,  there  was  also  born  and  growing  what  by  no 


238  SQUARE  PEGS. 

means  is  invariably  twin  to  beauty  sense ;  that  is  the 
sense  artistic,  which  achieves  beauty.  It  was  greatly 
this  to  which  her  external  development  was  owing. 
Since  she  had  outgrown  her  childish  carelessness  and 
had  learned  to  take  thought,  her  intuitions  of  the  fitting 
and  becoming  asserted  themselves  quite  unexpectedly  to 
those  who  had  known  her  long  before,  and  almost  as 
much  so  to  herself.  She  was  often  surprised  at  her 
own  perceptions  and  discoveries  in  matters  of  toilet  and 
apparel.  She  divined  somehow  what  "would  do;  "  she 
felt  with  discomfort  what  would  not.  It  came  about 
that  nothing  was  ever  incongruous  with  her,  though  in 
many  things  she  was  —  and  in  consequence  —  peculiar. 

She  was  one  of  those  persons  who  have  a  style  of 
their  own;  of  whom  observers  say  so,  with  the  addi 
tion,  "It  would  not  do  for  anybody  else." 

Her  aunt  said  it  to  her  by  way  of  criticism  and  de 
precation.  "I  do  not  wish  it  to,"  was  the  reply. 

"But  you  would  look  better  if  you  would  wear  things 
as  others  do.  The  fashion  is  always  becoming." 

"I  don't  think  so,  Aunt  Vera.  It  is  only  '  up-to- 
date.'  People  think  it  pretty  to  be  that." 

"What  everybody  thinks,  is." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Vera!  Isn't  the  world  ever  mistaken? 
What  are  art  and  science  and  preaching  for,  then  ?  " 

"  Very  well, "  answered  Aunt  Vera,  with  the  em 
phatic  intonation  by  which  she  was  accustomed  to  make 
those  two  words  end  a  losing  argument.  "I  only  say 
you  would  look  better  if  you  would  drop  your  hair  across 
your  ears,  as  the  other  girls  all  do." 

"Somebody  must  have  set  that  fashion  who  had  ugly 
ears,"  Estabel  rejoined.  "I  haven't." 

Truly,  the  exquisitely  curved  and  exactly  placed  little 
aural  appendages,  above  which  the  soft,  thick  hair  was 
swept  back  into  braids  that  were  coiled  and  lost  in  the 
knot  behind,  well  lifted  from  the  graceful,  slender  nape, 
were  never  so  made  and  put  on  to  be  hidden. 


ONLY  JUST  BEHIND  HER  FACE.          239 

"And  you  comb  it  too  high  at  the  back,"  continued 
Mrs.  Clymer,  whose  whole  soul  enlisted  itself  in  a  point 
of  discussion  like  this.  "They  don't  do  it  so." 

"Why  should  it  always  be  '  they,'  and  not  I?  I 
don't  do  it  for  '  they.'  It  suits  me.  It  would  contra 
dict  my  nose  if  I  made  the  bunch  down  low.  I  should 
be  all  mixed.  The  line  of  expression  would  be  broken 
up." 

Mrs.  Clymer  had  not  the  faintest  conception  of  the 
line  of  expression,  but  as  she  looked  more  observantly 
at  Estabel's  profile  and  the  general  effect,  and  saw 
something  spirited  and  unique  in  the  carriage  of  head 
and  set  of  features,  something  uplifted  —  not  "up- 
tilted  "  —  in  the  free-drawn  line  of  the  nose,  and  a 
light,  strong  bearing  in  the  curve  and  poise  of  the  slim, 
round  neck,  she  had  to  confess  to  herself  that  it  all 
went  well  together,  and  that  a  final  touch  had  adapted 
itself  to  all,  however  unconventionally,  in  the  gathering 
up  of  the  softly  glistening  locks  and  the  putting  in  of 
hairpins. 

It  was  the  same  with  Estabel  as  to  the  tie  of  a  rib 
bon,  the  placing  of  a  trimming ;  everything  took  char 
acter,  seemed  shaped  to  and  grown  from,  herself;  it 
was  not  put  on.  Whatever  came  from  the  hands  of 
milliner  or  dressmaker  suffered  a  change  in  her  own; 
it  took  some  turn  that  made  it  hers.  Her  throat  laces, 
for  example,  were  gathered  up,  instead  of  falling  down, 
as  then  commonly  arranged ;  a  necklet  that  she  was 
fond  of  wearing,  of  lava  stones  in  little  oval  rims,  con 
fined  them  so.  Sometimes  it  was  a  velvet  ribbon  with 
a  golden  filagree  clasp.  "I  look  better  this  way,"  she 
would  tell  her  aunt ;  and  then  say  something  again 
about  that  "line  of  expression." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean;  I  don't  believe  you 
do  yourself, "  Mrs.  Clymer  would  reply  impatiently. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do.  I  learned  it  from  Lilian.  I  have 
learned  a  great  deal  from  her." 


240  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Pshaw!      I  suppose  the  carpenter  teaches  her!  " 

"I  think  He  does,  auntie,"  Estahel  answered,  with 
secret,  serious  meaning  which  reached  Mrs.  Clymer  not 
at  all;  not  even  when  she  added,  "I  think  she  gets  the 
true  line  and  rule  for  everything." 

At  a  point  like  this  Mrs.  Clymer  would  have  to  drop 
the  discussion.  Estahel  always  managed,  she  said,  to 
get  her  own  way  by  jumping  some  fence  or  running  up 
against  some  blind. 

Yet  she  would  look  the  girl's  dress  over,  as  she  had 
done  her  head  and  face,  and  perceive  that  something 
was  there  beyond  her  reach  or  altering.  So  she  would 
say  no  more,  only  ceasing,  as  was  her  way,  with  the 
air  of  letting  alone  the  incorrigible  and  inwardly  reserv 
ing  a  commiseration  of  herself. 

But  when  one  evening  young  Mrs.  Crestonfield  came 
and  sat  beside  her  in  the  drawing-room,  and  praised 
Estabel's  style  and  figure  as  "peculiarly  effective,"  say 
ing  "  She  understands  herself ;  she  knows  what  suits  her 
exactly ;  and  so  few  persons  do,  you  know, "  Aunt  Vera 
experienced  a  cheerful  conversion,  and  came  to  the  peace 
of  a  comfortable  conclusion,  according  to  her  habit  of 
resting  at  last  in  the  compensations  of  the  inevitable ; 
admitting  to  herself  that  she  might  as  well  leave  Esta- 
bel  to  her  own  little  pertinacities  in  such  things,  since 
they  seemed  sometimes,  with  a  sort  of  simpleton's  luck, 
to  turn  to  a  curious,  accidental  advantage,  after  all. 

Her  conviction  did  not  go  far  enough,  however,  to 
relieve  her  mind  of  other  perplexing  responsibilities ; 
she  could  not  leave  to  Estabel  her  social  choice  and 
freedom;  she  could  not  trust  her  with  the  shaping  of 
her  own  associations  and  her  true  and  natural  self-ex 
pression  in  them.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to  imagine 
that  here  also  a  finer  nature  might  assert  itself;  that 
here  also  Estabel  might  instinctively  "understand,  and 
know  exactly  what  befitted  her,  as  indeed  few  do." 
That  conception  and  admission  were  at  present  far  beyond 


ONLY  JUST  BEHIND  HER  FACE.          241 

Aunt  Vera.  She  appraised  not  by  intrinsic  value,  which 
would  set  its  own  real  mark  in  its  own  due  time  and 
place,  but  by  the  passing,  superficial  estimate  of  a  very 
small  and  superficial  world. 

This  small  and  superficial  world  was  presently  to 
receive  a  singular  small  shock.  The  uncompromising 
young  nature  forced  into  contact  with  it  had  something 
of  the  yet  undiscovered  property  of  dynamite.  Pressed 
a  little  beyond  its  bearing,  it  exploded  its  way  out  of 
limit.  There  is  something  grand  and  generous  in  such 
expansion ;  it  makes  way  through  rude  obstacle  for  bet 
ter  condition.  For  the  moment,  however,  it  startles; 
it  scatters  things ;  people  run  away  from  it. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE    MAY    QUEEN. 

ESTABEL  —  notwithstanding  the  Chilstone  opposition, 
in  which  Corinna  still  led  her  little  set  simply  because 
she  had  so  begun  to  lead,  and  to  resign  in  that  point 
would  have  been  to  resign  leadership  altogether  and 
follow  with  the  rest  —  was  becoming  a  success.  It 
might  be  only  here,  just  now,  and  for  a  little  time ;  it 
was  with  an  accidental  party,  with  whom  she  might 
hereafter,  as  she  had  said,  have  nothing  more  to  do. 
It  related  merely  to  this  little  summer  holiday  at  Pe- 
quant  and  the  casual  holiday  amusement  to  which  she 
could  contribute.  So  she  supposed,  in  her  unconscious 
ness  of  making  deeper  impression  in  her  own  honest 
way ;  and  so  Mrs.  Clymer  insisted,  when  urging  any 
advance  or  concession  to  the  prominent  gay  coterie 
which  demonstratively  held  the  floor. 

"Those  quietly  exalted  people  are  too  high,"  she  de 
clared.  "They  have  really  nothing  to  do  with  every-day 
movement.  They  are  away  up  in  the  firmament,  and 
of  no  earthly  use.  They  don't  carry  the  tide." 

"I  don't  care  for  the  tide,"  said  Estabel.  "It 
would  only  leave  me  high  and  dry,  or  fling  me  on  the 
rocks.  I  'd  rather  sail  by  the  North  Star." 

The  tide  set  out  one  day  to  cast  away  a  little  plea 
sure  boat. 

A  little  girl  not  more  than  fifteen  arrived  at  the 
hotel  with  her  father.  In  her  boarding-school  vacation 
he  was  giving  her  a  "good  time."  The  child  had  no 
mother.  He  was  a  rich  man,  had  made  his  own  money, 


THE  MAY  QUEEN.  243 

and  knew  nothing  intermediate  between  the  counting- 
room  accumulation  and  the  taking  possession,  with  its 
results,  of  the  world,  its  consequence  and  delights,  which 
he  supposed  lay  easily  open  all  about  him,  only  awaiting 
the  time  when  he  should  choose  to  present  his  claim. 
That  was  to  be,  in  his  full  intent,  when  his  little  Olym- 
pia,  all  he  had  or  cared  for  on  the  earth  except  his 
money,  and  that  but  for  her  sake,  should  be  quite  grown 
up.  How  strange  it  is  that  this  dear  and  sacred  motive 
may  be  so  crudely  illustrated  that  the  world  will  only 
jeer  and  laugh! 

A  lovely  heart  idyl  was  reciting  itself  in  the  presence 
and  among  the  forms  of  this  little  summer  crowd  at 
Pequant ;  and  the  summer  crowd  thought  it  was  a  funny 
farce. 

Estabel  saw,  in  caricature,  what  she  might  have  come 
to. 

The  father  and  daughter  had  taken  together  a  beau 
tiful  round  of  journey.  They  had  been  to  Trenton  and 
Niagara;  they  had  sailed  down  the  St.  Lawrence  among 
the  Thousand  Islands ;  they  had  come  through  the 
White  Mountain  grandeurs ;  now  they  had  brought  up 
by  the  mighty  limit  line  of  the  glorious,  all-surround 
ing  sea. 

They  had  been  conspicuous,  in  a  certain  way,  every 
where  ;  they  always  had  the  best  places  at  table,  and 
the  most  obsequious  attendance ;  for  the  head  waiters 
had  golden  fees,  and  the  palms  of  lesser  personal  servi 
tors  were  crossed  with  uncalculated  frequent  silver. 

They  had  been  dressed  up  all  the  way ;  for  traveling, 
for  dining,  for  driving,  for  evening  display,  their  ap 
pointments  had  been  of  the  most  lavish,  most  costly, 
most  varied,  most  splendid.  "My  little  Olympia  shall 
have  everything, "  Mr.  Tucker  said  to  those  with  whom 
he  fell,  or  struggled,  into  conversation. 

But  he  could  not  give  her  everything. 

He  could  not  give  her  a  place  here  among  the  elect 


244  SQUARE   PEGS. 

of  Peaceport  and  Topthorpe.  He  could  not  even  give 
her  a  dance,  though  he  brought  her  into  the  evening 
assembly  decked  like  a  stage  princess  or  fairy  queen, 
unless  he  danced  with  her  himself.  This  he  did,  loyally 
and  devotedly  —  when  the  half-formed  quadrille  set  did 
not,  as  sometimes  happened,  melt  away  from  them  and 
fill  up  elsewhere,  to  their  innocent  surprise ;  although 
with  his  half-million  dollars  and  his  only  forty-two 
years,  he  might,  with  a  different  savoir  faire,  have 
found  partners  for  himself,  and  begun  possibly  at  that 
end  to  accomplish  his  affectionate  paternal  purpose. 

Olympia  Tucker  danced  as  she  dressed,  in  ornate 
fashion.  She  did  beautiful  steps,  that  had  been  alto 
gether  discarded  by  the  initiated.  She  glissaded,  chas- 
seed,  pas-le-basqued,  made  little  cuts  with  her  slender 
heels,  curtseyed  with  a  sweep  that  demanded  space  be 
hind  her,  which  was  sometimes  cleared  and  sometimes 
not ;  in  the  latter  contingency  there  was  collision,  upon 
which  she  would  swiftly  reverse  her  curtsey,  with  a 
little  French  "pardonnez "  really  due  from  the  other 
side. 

She  was  "great  fun,"  the  young  observers  decreed; 
and  in  a  more  or  less  covert  way  they  made  the  most  of 
her. 

Mr.  Tucker  made  scrape-acquaintance  with  the  young 
swells  upon  the  piazza  and  in  the  bowling  alleys ;  they 
were  willing  he  should  offer  them  the  manly  cigar,  or 
opulently  pay  the  scot  for  a  rolling  match ;  it  evidently 
pleased  him,  and  "among  men "  it  did  not  matter. 
In  the  evening  drawing-room  they  had  no  use  for  him. 

One  night  he  broke  out  of  Coventry  —  not  knowing 
perhaps  that  he  had  been  in  it.  He  seized  a  fortuitous 
opportunity  and  introduced  Fred  Crestonfield  to  his 
daughter.  And  Fred  Crestonfield  took  her  out  for  a 
waltz,  but  he  lifted  his  handsome  eyebrows  over  his 
shoulder  at  his  compeers  grouped  and  wondering  in  a 
corner.  When  he  had  landed  her  again  at  her  father's 


THE  MAY  QUEEN.  245 

side,  and  she  had  childlikely  thanked  him,  he  gave  the 
word  and  the  joke  to  the  others.  "It  's  your  turn  now, 
the  rest  of  you,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh.  "Give  her  a 
good  show." 

And  the  hint  took.  For  that  one  evening  poor  little 
Olympia  Tucker  was  to  be  fooled  to  the  top  of  her 
hent ;  she  was  to  be  made  a  belle  —  and  then,  of  course, 
let  down  again. 

The  whisper  went  round  among  some  of  the  girls. 
It  happened  to  reach  Estabel.  "It  is  a  shame!  "  she 
said,  and  refused  Fred  Crestonfield,  who  came  to  ask 
her  for  a  cotillon.  And  no  dance  would  she  take  part 
in,  while  over  and  over  again  the  victim  of  the  sport 
was  being  led  out,  scrambled  for,  led  out  again,  and 
put  through  all  her  flourishes,  to  her  own  delight,  which 
innocently  accentuated  all,  and  to  that  of  the  quizzing, 
romping  set  who  took  up  her  style  in  a  just  sufficient 
mimicry  exquisitely  to  amuse  themselves,  and  not  to 
flout  her  openly  and  without  disguise. 

"This  is  real  dancing.  You  have  set  us  a  good  ex 
ample,"  said  one  of  her  partners  in  a  gay  round.  "We 
had  almost  forgotten  our  dancing  school."  And  Olym 
pia  thought  she  was  complimented. 

The  girl  wore  a  dress  of  gold-colored  gauze,  ribbon- 
striped,  which  shimmered  around  her  in  expanse  of 
three  full  skirts  over  silk  of  the  same  hue.  At  the 
waist  a  golden  band  gathered  in  the  rotundity;  heavy 
gold  bracelets  were  on  her  arms;  a  great,  gay  wreath 
of  yellow  honeysuckles  that  had  come  in  a  box  of  finery 
from  Paris,  and  was  of  course  all  right,  crowned  her 
head  and  fell  in  sprays  upon  her  shoulders. 

"Cinderella  in  her  pumpkin  coach!  "  said  one. 

"Queen  o'  the  May,"  declared  another. 

And  with  her  evident  delighted  triumph,  her  flushed 
acceptance  of  a  central  consequence,  her  conspicuous 
coronal,  the  name  took.  For  the  brief  hour,  of  which  she 
suspected  not  the  mockery,  she  was  to  be  May  Queen. 


246  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Estabel  sat  looking  on,  divining  all ;  her  flimsy  little 
handkerchief  and  lace  fan  crushed  in  an  angry  grasp; 
ready  to  spring,  to  smite,  to  cry  out. 

Twice  she  had  started  to  go  to  Mr.  Tucker,  and  bid 
him  take  his  child  away ;  and  twice  her  heart  had  failed 
her,  as  she  saw  the  glow  of  his,  warm  with  a  loving 
satisfaction,  shining  —  yes,  tenderly  brimming  —  in  his 
watching  eyes. 

But  the  moment  came. 

A  cotillon  was  turned  into  a  reel  —  the  Coquette. 

Olympia's  turn  came  to  go  down  the  contradance. 

Hands  were  outstretched  to  her;  heads  leaned  for 
ward  ;  each  young  masculine  pretended  to  be  eager, 
anxious  to  be  chosen.  She  thought  it  was  all  real ;  she 
flitted  from  one  to  another  up  and  down,  butterfly  fash 
ion,  until  she  had  passed  the  entire  line ;  then  turned, 
and  with  a  merry  galop  sped  up  outside  and  down 
again,  alone,  leading  the  whole  troop  after  her.  She 
certainly  did  in  her  gleeful  intoxication  provoke  to  fur 
ther  humoring. 

"Form  for  the  Boulanger, "  came  the  order  for  a 
second  change;  and  the  great  circle  of  dancers  spread 
out  around  the  room. 

The  basket  figure  —  the  grand  right  and  left  —  the 
all  hands  round  and  reversed,  were  danced ;  then  the 
youth  who  had  assumed  the  direction  of  the  medley  and 
gave  the  signals  for  the  music,  held  up  his  hand.  The 
players  struck  into  the  "May  Queen"  with  spirit. 

Up  to  this  point,  the  elder  lookers-on  had  compre 
hended  nothing  but  the  merriment.  Many  of  them  did 
not  quite  approve  the  apparent  fact  that  it  was  the 
keener  for  the  ingenuous  exultation  of  the  little  flower- 
crowned  damsel.  But  nobody,  even  if  any  of  them  had 
known  all  that  Estabel  Charlock  knew,  could  have  in 
terfered  without  making  a  painful  eclaircissement . 
Chaperons  had  sent  out  anxious  glances,  had  lifted 
finger  or  fan  warningly  to  their  young  charges ;  but  the 


THE  MAY  QUEEN.  247 

climax  came,  and  quite  beyond  their  apprehension ;  be 
yond  that,  very  likely,  of  any  but  the  chief  participants. 

"All  forward  and  back,"  was  the  call.  "Chassez  to 
partners ;  chassez  across ;  forward  again ;  back,  leaving 
first  lady  in  centre." 

Olympia  Tucker  had  been  first  lady  in  the  top  qua 
drille,  and  at  the  head  of  the  reel.  Her  partner  led 
her  out  and  left  her. 

The  music,  in  gay,  rapid  measure,  went  on.  A  few 
voices  began  to  hum,  while  feet  kept  time,  and  one  or 
two  broke  forth  with  words ;  — 

"  Of  all  the  glad  new  year,  mother, 

The  maddest,  merriest  day  ; 
For  I  'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May,  mother, 
I  'm  to  be  Queen  o'  the  May  !  " 

Of  course  there  were  pretext  and  cover  in  the  familiar 
inspiration  of  the  tune ;  but  the  application  was  too 
patent ;  and  when,  with  a  laugh,  "  First  lady  pas  seul  " 
was  ordered  almost  simultaneously,  it  was  manifest  that 
the  clock  had  struck,  and  Cinderella  was  deserted. 

She  stood  bewildered  in  the  middle  of  the  great  room 
under  the  blaze  of  the  chandelier ;  there  was  the  whirl 
of  a  gay  ring  of  laughing  couples,  matched  as  might 
happen ;  under  the  exchange  of  partners  and  the  general 
wild  scamper,  the  escape  from  a  confessed  insult  was 
feebly  made ;  the  fellow  who  had  danced  with  Olympia 
was  tying  his  shoe  somewhere  in  a  corner. 

Olympia  Tucker  stood  stock-still. 

This  had  not  been  expected.  In  the  melde  she  might 
have  made  her  unsupported  retreat.  In  fact,  the  whole 
affair  had  taken  unpremeditated  shape,  one  thing  incit 
ing  another ;  and  more  than  half  the  company  were  in 
voluntary,  uncomprehending  accessories. 

There  was  but  the  one  painful  moment. 

Mr.  Tucker  strode  forward  from  the  doorway. 

But   a  girlish   figure  was   before   him;   a  girl's   arm 


248  SQUARE  PEGS. 

was  round  his  daughter's  waist;  an  imperious  young 
hand  was  lifted,  outspread,  repellant,  toward  the  band. 
The  music  stopped. 

"You  are  mean,  cruel!  Every  one  of  you!"  rang 
out  upon  the  offenders'  ears  in  a  clear,  indignant  voice. 
And  Estabel  Charlock  walked  down  the  room,  her  arm 
still  round  Olympia's  waist;  on  the  other  side,  her 
father  drew  her  hand  within  his  own. 

The  next  morning  the  Tuckers  had  gone  from  Pe- 
quant. 

Mrs.  Clymer  rejoiced  at  one  thing  in  the  midst  of 
her  angry  dismay ;  she  had  already  mentioned  in  the 
house  that  she  would  leave  on  Monday. 

Between  the  Thursday  hop  and  the  Monday  departure 
was  a  wearisome  time  to  Estabel.  Aunt  Vera  was  al 
most  too  much  displeased  for  words,  yet  she  could  not 
be  Aunt  Vera  without  words ;  and  the  words  came,  in 
little  sudden  whips,  without  preface  or  warning. 

"  It  was  none  of  your  business, "  she  said  sharply, 
when  Estabel  was  folding  a  dress  for  her. 

"It  seemed  to  me  it  was  somebody's  business.  But 
I  am  very  sorry  —  for  you — Aunt  Vera.  I  can't 
seem  to  help  being  a  trouble." 

"Why  could  n't  the  girl  go  and  sit  down?  " 

"Perhaps  she  would  have  rushed  and  screamed  if  she 
had  stirred.  She  stood  there  rigid." 

"And  now  you  may  stand  rigid.  You  '11  be  frozen 
fast  enough.  And  just  as  you  had  begun  to  be  warmed 
up  to.  It  's  beyond  all  patience." 

"I  do  suppose  it  is  —  as  you  look  at  it.  Aunt  Vera; 
and  I'm  very  sorry.  But  I  couldn't  do  any  other 
way." 

"Very  —  well.  Perhaps  you'll  find  out  what  way 
you  can  do  now.  /  can't  advise  you." 

This  was  how  it  was  in  their  own  rooms.  Outside, 
in  the  small  opportunity  that  Estabel  gave,  there  cer 
tainly  was  a  change,  but  an  indefinite  one.  She  was 


THE  MAY  QUEEN.  249 

not  remanded  to  Coventry ;  there  had  been  justice  and 
heroism  in  her  rebuke  and  interference;  there  was  gen 
erosity  and  sympathy  enough  to  recognize  that;  but 
these  had  been  too  pronounced;  "it  was  exceedingly 
irregular,  my  dear!"  It  "would  not  do"  to  cut,  in 
that  fashion,  across  polite  lines ;  links  were  intricate ; 
a  whole  social  order  could  not  be  broken  into  with  one 
sweeping  assault;  the  world  is  shy  of  fierce  young 
iconoclasm. 

Estabel  was  even  admired  for  what  she  had  done, 
but  it  was  with  a  very  cautious  reservation.  "It  was 
not  at  all  wise,"  the  chaperons  said.  "It  should  have 
been  left  to  us."  And  although  they  were  kindly  civil, 
they  no  longer  drew  her  in  among  them.  Even  Mrs. 
Bvithwaite  said  to  her,  "My  dear,  it  is  never  best  to 
make  a  scene." 

"But,  Mrs.  Brithwaite,  wasn't  the  scene  made  al 
ready  ?  "  Estabel  asked  her  wistfully.  She  could  hardly 
bear  to  have  Mrs.  Brithwaite 's  friendship  lessen. 

''It  was  very  bad,"  the  lady  owned;  "and  you  were 
brave  and  generous ;  but  perhaps  you  did  too  much. 
Perhaps,  indeed,  the  young  person  got  a  wholesome 
lesson." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Brithwaite !  \  If  you  could  have  heard 
what  she  said  to  me !  '  I  suppose  I  have  been  a  fool. 
I  should  not  have  cared  so  sillily,  only  I  thought  my 
dear  father  was  pleased  to  have  me  noticed.  He  thinks 
so  much  of  me.'  ' 

The  tears  started  in  Estabel' s  eyes  as  she  repeated 
the  words ;  and  there  was  a  moisture  in  Mrs.  Brith 
waite 's  as  she  heard. 

"And  what  did  you  say  to  that,  dear?  " 

"I  told  her  the  fools  were  on  the  other  side,  and 
that  there  weren't  but  two  or  three  of  them,  anyway; 
that  there  were  lots  of  kind  hearts  in  the  room  all  the 
time." 

Then  Mrs.  Brithwaite  kissed  her. 


250  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"You  must  come  right  back  into  your  own  place, 
Estabel, "  she  said.  "There  are  to  be  charades  tomor 
row  night,  and  we  shall  want  you." 

"Thank  you  —  for  everything  —  dear  Mrs.  Brith- 
waite.  I  understand.  But  I  have  acted  enough." 
The  last  words  were  said  with  a  touch  of  proud,  yet 
gentle  self-satire,  for  which  her  friend  liked  her  the 
better. 

Mrs.  Clymer  was  considerably  appeased  when  Estabel 
told  her  of  this  conversation.  But  she  still  said,  "It 
won't  greatly  signify.  There  are  n't  enough  Mrs. 
Brithwaites  to  count." 

"I  think  there  are,  Aunt  Vera, "  answered  Estabel. 
"And  I  think  it  depends  a  good  deal  on  which  side  of 
yourself  you  present,  how  people  —  and  what  sort  of 
people  —  take  you.  Don't  you  remember  how  much 
trouble  you  had  once,  to  teach  me  to  offer  things  by  the 
handle?" 

That  evening  Estabel  stepped  out  of  her  own  room 
into  a  balcony  that  ran  across  that  front  of  the  house. 
Several  apartments  opened  on  to  it;  it  was  a  quiet, 
upstairs,  ladies'  resort. 

Aunt  Vera  was  busy  writing  letters ;  they  were  ta 
citly  agreed  not  to  appear  in  the  drawing-room  just  yet ; 
later,  Mrs.  Clymer  meant  to  drop  in  for  half  an  hour; 
she  by  no  means  intended  a  self -banishment. 

The  shadow  of  a  great  tree  and  the  projection  of  a 
blind  fastened  open  at  right  angles  shielded  Estabel 
where  she  sat,  on  a  low  wicker  chair  just  outside  her 
own  sashed  door. 

Steps  approached  from  the  farther  corner  of  the  wing, 
and  two  persons  paused  just  beyond  the  screening  blind, 
without,  she  thought,  perceiving  her.  Afterward,  she 
doubted.  They  took  possession  of  a  settee  that  had 
been  drawn  forward  to  the  rail,  and  sat  with  their 
backs  to  her.  If  she  had  been  within  her  room,  that 
warm,  still,  summer  night,  when  doors  and  windows 


THE  MAY   QUEEN.  251 

were  all  open,  they  would  have  been  near  enough  for 
her  to  hear  what  she  did  hear  presently.  In  her  after 
thought  it  occurred  to  her  as  quite  possible  that  she  had 
been  meant  to  hear. 

The  comers  were  Corinna  Chilstone  and  another  young 
person  to  whom  Corinna  had  violently  attached  herself, 
or  permitted  herself  to  be  violently  appropriated  by,  of 
late. 

"She'll  be  dropped  now,  of  course,"  said  the  other 
young  person. 

"Thank  goodness,  I've  got  nothing  to  drop.  I  never 
picked  her  up.  Aunt  Brithwaite  and  Mary  will  have 
that  knot  to  cut." 

"That  Char-lock,  you  mean,"  said  the  companion, 
with  stupid  endeavor  at  some  pun  that  was  not  there. 

"  I  said  nothing  about  a  lock  of  any  sort  —  if  it 
could  be  cut, "  rejoined  Corinna,  with  a  snub  as  stupid. 
She  was  evidently  out  of  humor  —  in  every  sense  of  the 
word. 

The  truth  was,  she  had  been  snubbed  herself  by  Aunt 
Brithwaite,  a  little  while  before,  when  she  had  spoken 
to  her  of  that  same  inevitable  "dropping"  which  would 
come  now. 

"She  will  drop  up,  you  will  find,"  Mrs.  Brithwaite 
had  answered  coolly.  "Courage  and  nobleness  always 
do,  whatever  mistakes  they  may  appear  to  make." 

So  Corinna  was  cross  with  her  newly  chosen  friend, 
who  on  her  part  was  forbearing;  not  that  she  had 
such  all-enduring  fondness  for  the  girl  herself  as 
amounted  to  the  blessed  Pauline  charity,  but  she  did 
wish  very  much  to  be  intimate  with  the  Brithwaites. 

"She  goes  to  your  school,  doesn't  she?  "  The  ques 
tion  was  asked  as  with  sympathetic  deploring  sense  of 
such  unwarrantable  intrusion. 

Corinna  thanked  goodness  again.  "  That  's  all  over, " 
she  said.  "Satterwood  's  getting  to  be  much  too  com 
mon.  Ever  so  many  of  us  are  leaving  this  year.  I  'm 


252  SQUARE  PEGS. 

going  to  Madam  Sanjan's."  She  spoke  the  name  \vith 
as  much  complacent  consequence  as  if  the  first  thing  she 
would  have  to  learn  under  the  new  tuition  would  not  he 
to  pronounce  properly  "Madame  Saint- Jean." 

"Thank  goodness,  too!"  said  Estahel,  barely  under 
her  breath,  as  she  got  up  and  walked  away. 

She  went  back  to  Topthorpe  with  her  aunt  on  Monday, 
almost  jubilant  under  her  cloud  of  misadventure ;  for 
which,  indeed,  she  took  herself  to  task  presently,  won 
dering  if  she  ought  to  tell  Aunt  Vera  this  that  she  had 
heard  and  was  so  glad  of. 

She  was  determined,  however,  that  she  would  not  go 
to  Madame  Saint- Jean's,  and  she  thought  she  had  a 
right  so  to  determine. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
THINGS:  AND  SPIRIT. 

THE  tide  of  a  certain  fickle  fashion  had  ebbed  away 
from  Mr.  Satterwood's  school.  And  Mr.  Satterwood 
was  not  sorry. 

Madame  Saint- Jean  taught  in  French.  No  American 
was  spoken  within  the  school  precincts.  In  this  way 
the  young  Topthorpe  girls  were  to  be  trained  into  good 
Americans,  such  as  should  hereafter  go  to  Paris. 

Madame  Saint- Jean '  s  terms  were  forty  dollars  a  quar 
ter,  while  Mr.  Satterwood's  charge  was  only  twenty-five. 
Madame  Saint-Jean  limited  her  number  of  pupils  strictly 
to  fifty,  while  Mr.  Satterwood's  was  elastic  at  seventy- 
five.  These  last  two  conditions  kept  the  new  school 
free  from  many  who,  however  good  Americans  they 
might  be,  would  not,  in  all  probability,  be  of  the  elect 
for  that  hereafter  in  hope  of  which  the  chosen  were 
rejoicing.  "Le  meilleur  monde  ce  n'est  pas  tout  le 
monde, "  one  of  madame's  patronesses  said  to  her — • 
with  Topthorpian  idiom  and  accent  —  in  very  compla 
cent  French. 

Mr.  Satterwood's  school  had  outgrown  such  boundary. 
All  his  second-floor  rooms  were  thrown  together  now,  as 
class-rooms.  The  first  class  held  the  original  room,  and 
the  few  in  it  who  had  been  there  from  the  beginning  still 
maintained  a  certain  tone  of  discriminative  privilege 
which  shut  from  its  close  communion  the  unincorporate 
multitude.  But  the  influence  was  feeble.  The  multi 
tude  did  not  know  that  it  was  excluded.  Practically, 
the  excluded  were  the  exclusives  themselves. 


254  SQUARE  PEGS. 

At  Madame  Saint-Jean's,  where  the  educational  stam 
pede  had  established  a  commonalty  untouched  of  the 
common,  there  was  the  opposite  drawback  to  an  entire 
complacency.  Where  all  was  aristocratic,  there  was  no 
immediate  distinction.  There  was  a  touch  of  tameness 
in  the  equality.  The  satisfaction  resulted  outside  in 
general  contact.  To  be  one  of  "madame's  girls"  was 
to  be  Tip-Topthorpian  in  young  society. 

Mr.  Satterwood  was  not  sorry.  It  had  been  greatly 
his  own  doing,  the  effect  of  his  own  quiet  self-showing 
in  the  ruling  principles  of  comparative  estimate.  He 
believed  in  humanity,  in  personality,  in  character ;  not 
in  clique,  mould,  facsimile.  He  wanted  mind  and  soul 
to  educate,  individuality  to  study  and  draw  forth.  Each 
pupil  was  to  him  herself,  no  matter  who  her  father  was 
or  in  what  street  she  lived.  Real  family,  real  inherit 
ance,  of  the  strong,  the  high,  the  noble,  he  valued  and 
revered.  Artificial  pseudo-dignities  were  to  him  no 
dignities  at  all.  He  came  from  the  land  of  old  heredi 
tary  honors,  but  it  was  the  living  perpetuation  of  an 
absolute  honor  that  he  solely  recognized.  Any  other 
pretense,  here  in  America,  seemed  to  him,  an  English 
man,  the  most  anomalous  absurdity.  So  the  pretenders 
found  him  out ;  he  was  not  half  English  enough ;  the 
enthusiasm  of  their  patronage  reacted. 

The  ebbing  of  one  tide,  nevertheless,  was  the  flowing 
in  of  another.  As  the  waters  that  obeyed  the  fashion 
pulse  retreated,  a  purer  current  came  through  quieter 
channels.  Girls  were  sent  to  him  by  carefully  wise 
parents,  from  homes  of  a  higher  thought  and  culture ; 
the  neighboring  university  town  was  represented,  not 
withstanding  the  then  practical  difficulty  of  distance; 
and  from  much  farther  off,  judges'  and  senators'  daugh 
ters  came,  suitable  temporary  homes  being  found  for 
them  in  the  city,  as  was  easy  in  that  comparatively  un- 
crowded,  Arcadian  day ;  one  house  was  opened  near  his 
own  by  Mr.  Satterwood  himself,  and  put  in  charge  of  a 


THINGS:  AND  SPIRIT.  255 

discreet,  kind  matron,  to  meet  the  growing  need. 
Everything  was  changed;  the  old  element  was  super 
seded. 

Estabel  found  choice  of  friendship  among  the  choice. 
But  for  Aunt  Vera's  change  toward  her,  her  cold  giving 
up  of  hope  and  ambition  in  her  behalf,  and  maintenance 
of  a  mere  duty  attitude  and  negative  kindness  in  the 
charge  she  had  undertaken,  the  young  girl  would  have 
been  very  happy. 

Margery  Wyman,  from  Montpelier,  whose  father  and 
mother  were  in  Washington  during  the  season  of  Mr. 
Wyman's  congressional  duties,  was  one  of  these  inci 
dental  friends,  and  became  intimate  in  Mount  Street. 

"All  very  well, "  Mrs.  Clymer  persisted,  when  she 
spoke  at  all  of  the  present  aspect  of  affairs.  "But  you 
will  never  live  in  Montpelier.  It  is  only  for  the  time 
being.  It  will  all  come  to  an  end,  and  then  where  will 
you  be?  You  will  never  be  in  a  set  in  Topthorpe." 

"I  don't  care  for  a  set.  Bother  a  set,"  Estabel  re 
plied  with  the  terseness  Mr.  Josh  Billings  has  more 
recently  used  in  his  remark  concerning  a  fly.  "I  can't 
bear  a  'set '  of  china.  There  are  lots  of  ugly  and  use 
less  things  in  it.  I  'd  rather  pick  up  nice  separate  bits 
as  I  go  along." 

"Odds  and  ends,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Clymer  contemptu 
ously.  "That  isn't  society." 

Estabel' s  illustration,  like  many  of  her  ideas  and  ex 
pressions,  was  ahead  of  time.  The  day  of  diverse,  mis 
cellaneous  bric-a-brac  was  not  yet. 

"Let  her  alone.  She  may  go  to  Washington  yet. 
And  you  never  know  who  mayn't  be  in  the  White 
House, "  said  Mr.  Clymer.  In  his  business  way  he 
knew  the  value  of  single  associations,  as  well  as  of  ad 
mittance,  now  and  then,  into  a  "ring."  The  ring, 
again,  had  not  then  become  a  permanent  and  all-engor 
ging  system  of  affairs. 

Estabel  grew  in  these  days.     In  wisdom  and  in  stature, 


256  SQUARE  PEGS. 

like  the  Divine  Archetype  of  youth,  she  gained  and 
adapted  to  herself,  through  a  divine  gift  and  ordering, 
that  which  was  to  make  her  being.  In  mind  and  body 
the  elements  of  a  grand  womanhood  were  forming  her 
toward  their  beautiful  result.  She  did  not  know  how 
she  was  changing.  That  was  because  it  was  not  change, 
but  a  true  evolution. 

She  was  freed  from  so  many  petty  chafes  and  cramps. 
She  was  not  forced  every  day  to  feel  or  remember  that 
she  was  ostracized.  She  met  girls  on  the  street  who 
did  not  bow  to  her.  To  the  Corinna  Chilstones  she  was 
still  the  same  "strange  girl"  —  relegated  the  more  to 
that  position  now  that  there  was  not  even  the  slen 
der  claim  of  school  fellowship  —  whom  their  mothers 
would  not  allow  them  to  accost.  But  this  did  not  chafe 
her  in  the  least.  They  had  their  world ;  she  had  hers. 
She  was  as  little  solicitous  about  it  as  the  bee,  in  her 
busy,  happy  ways,  is  solicitous  about  the  ways  of  moth 
or  wasp. 

She  had  Mr.  Satterwood ;  she  had  the  Gladmother. 
She  had  then,  after  and  along  with  these,  her  dear  girl 
friends  —  Lilian,  Margery,  Mary  Brithwaite,  and  the 
others  of  her  earlier,  tentative  intimacy.  She  was  loyal 
to  them  all.  She  rejoiced  in  every  added  one.  But 
she  added  none,  except  as  a  crystal  adds  that  which  is 
essential  to  its  own  clear  nature.  Her  accretions,  like 
her  growth,  were  homogeneous. 

But  it  was  Mr.  Satterwood  and  the  Gladmother  in 
whose  spirit  and  teaching  the  crystal  was  forming ;  in 
whose  influences  it  was  finding  that  which  their  solvent 
touch  tested  and  proved  akin. 

Something  seemed  liberated  to  freer  assertion  and 
more  frequent  utterance  in  the  master's  daily  instruc 
tion.  The  audience  impels  or  restrains  the  speaker,  in 
the  moment  of  his  self-giving;  his  best,  his  whole,  only 
comes  forth  when  it  feels  welcome  and  response.  Mr. 
Satterwood  had  now  among  his  pupils  the  predominance 


THINGS:  AND  SPIRIT.  257 

of  a  different  element  from  that  which  had  prevailed 
when  he  began  his  work  in  Topthorpe  under  the  aus 
pices  —  limited  and  controlling  —  of  the  little,  impor 
tant  "set  "  of  Topthorpe  matrons. 

Not  that  he  had  been  weakly  controlled ;  he  was  sim 
ply  compelled  to  a  waiting  reserve.  He  would  gladly 
have  led  his  scholars  —  as  we  are  all  being  led  by  a 
Divine  Wisdom  —  up  through  the  intervening  steps  of 
a  careful  training,  to  a  larger  comprehension ;  inward, 
through  a  quickening  of  their  inert  natures,  to  a  keener 
sympathy  of  intuition.  But  they  would  not  take  the  first 
steps  ;  they  were  hard  with  a  premature  and  petty  world- 
liness,  against  any  penetration  or  energizing  of  a  spirit 
ual  force. 

Now  he  found  it  different.  Estabel  Charlock  was 
not  the  only  one  to  whom  he  could  talk,  when  the  im 
pulse  moved  him  to  words  of  more  than  mere  school 
drill  or  outside  explanation ;  when  some  point  in  a  les 
son  showed  relation  beyond  mere  circumstance  or 
mechanical  law,  and  touched  the  secret  heart  of  reason, 
the  very  life  of  fact.  History  —  natural  science  —  above 
all,  the  religious  exercise  with  which  he  began  the  day 
—  stirred  him  often  to  an  earnest  comment  or  exposi 
tion  ;  and  he  forgot  the  minutes  and  the  book,  in  the 
joy  of  a  grand  seizure  of  the  central  thing,  or  a  beauti 
ful  expansion  and  cheering  application  of  a  holy  saying. 
He  had  a  way  of  fixing  his  intense  eyes  upon  some  one 
person  or  object,  as  if  in  a  hypnotic  attraction,  and 
unconsciously  holding  his  point  of  vision  as  he  held  his 
inward  sight,  clear,  strong,  and  unmoving,  till  the 
thought  was  wrought  out,  and  the  perception  of  his  own 
soul  had  taken  form  for  the  perception  of  others.  Very 
often  he  looked  this  way  into  Estabel  Charlock's  eyes; 
and  then  she  forgot  also  all  but  that  which  was  as  if 
some  aiigel  spoke  it  out  of  a  heaven  of  truth.  Other 
girls  sometimes  grew  uneasy  under  his  gaze,  blushed, 
dropped  their  eyelids  —  this  recalled,  interrupted  him. 


258  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Estabel  never  interrupted;  she  was  out  of  herself; 
whether  even  in  the  body  or  out  of  the  body,  she  neither 
knew  nor  reminded  herself;  she  was  caught  up,  and 
listened. 

He  talked  one  morning  about  those  wonderful,  strange 
words  of  the  Christ,  in  which  He  told  men,  unquali 
fiedly,  that  all  should  be  granted  to  every  human  soul's 
demand. 

'"Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you.  Seek,  and  ye 
shall  find.  Knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you. 
For  he  that  asketh,  receiveth;  and  he  that  seeketh,  find- 
eth;  and  to  him  that  knocketh,  it  shall  be  opened.' 

"It  is  not  conditional;  and  there  is  no  exception," 
said  the  master.  "It  is  a  promise  on  demand.  It  is  a 
pledge  of  every 'tiling  to  the  want  and  claim.  '  Every 
thing  is  yours;  ye  are  Christ's;  Christ  is  God's.'  The 
way  is  opened  straight  to  the  Divine  Power  and  Will. 
The  links  are  let  down  from  above,  and  the  chain  is  put 
into  every  human  being's  hand.  If  you  want  with  your 
whole  nature  —  if  you  ask  with  your  whole  faith  that 
will  not  be  denied  —  if  you  seek  with  your  whole,  unfal 
tering  diligence  —  if  you  knock  with  all  your  strength 
—  you  shall  have,  you  shall  find,  you  shall  be  let  in  to 
your  desire.  Whatever  it  is." 

"Not  if  it  is  wrong?"  Estabel  Charlock  put  the 
question  that  she  could  not  help. 

Mr.  Satterwood  bent  his  eyes  yet  more  keenly  upon 
her.  "Yes.  That  is  the  law.  It  is  the  glory  of  it 
and  the  awfulness.  It  rewards;  it  punishes.  It  is 
promise  and  terrible  warning.  Just  before  it  is  de 
clared,  the  other  words  are  put  in  record  —  they  may 
have  been  said  in  that  order  or  afterward,  but  they  are 
in  inseparable  connection,  — '  Give  not  that  which  is 
holy  unto  the  dogs.  Cast  not  your  pearls' — your 
heavenly  privilege  and  franchise  —  'before  the  swine  '  of 
your  lower  nature ;  '  lest  they  trample  them  under  their 
feet  and  turn  again  and  rend  you.' 


THINGS:   AND   SPIRIT.  259 

"What  does  it  all  mean?  It  means  that  we  may 
choose  our  way,  .and  take  it.  That  we  may  covet  a 
thing,  and  get  it.  That  we  may  desire  our  place  and 
determine  upon  it,  and  gain  it.  Sooner  or  later,  by 
more  or  less  of  toil  and  life-spending,  through  more 
or  less  of  delay  and  disappointment,  we  may  arrive  at 
any  aim  whatsoever.  There  is  no  distinction.  For 
blessing  or  bane,  for  salvation  or  damnation,  we  may  be 
and  may  possess  as  we  elect.  It  is  sure  to  come.  If 
not  in  this  world,  we  must  suppose  in  the  next,  or  the 
next  after  —  unless  we  change.  For  the  declaration 
stands.  God  rewardeth  every  man  according  to  his 
works.  Judas  went  to  his  own  place. 

"You  are  at  the  choosing  point.  What  will  you 
choose  ?  Place,  position,  influence,  notice,  admiration, 
money,  beauty,  luxury,  the  envy  of  the  many  ?  All 
these  which  are  of  the  kingdom  of  the  world,  offer  them 
selves  to  your  asking  and  seeking  and  knocking  —  if 
you  ivill  give  your  whole  being  to  the  search  and  the 
demand  and  the  determination;  if  you  will  fall  down 
and  worship  the  Satan  that  is  in  them.  For  it  is  the 
satan  —  the  self  —  in  them  which  requires  condition ; 
which  makes  bargain  with  you  for  your  soul.  And 
yet  all  these  things,  or  any  one  of  them,  may  come  to 
you  without  self-seeking,  as  the  will  and  gift  of  God. 
They  may  come  to  you  by  the  way.  Then  they  are 
righteous ;  they  are  fulfillment  and  command  of  God, 
sign  and  means  for  the  work  you  are  to  do.  'Seek  the 
kingdom  of  God,  and  his  righteousness,  and  all  these 
things  shall  be  added  unto  you.  For  your  Father  know- 
eth  that  ye  have  need  of  them.'  'Covet  earnestly  the 
best  gifts.'  ' 

Mr.  Satterwood  shut  the  book.  A  silence  fell.  In 
that  silence  he  left  the  word  that  he  had  spoken,  con 
densed  and  brief.  Its  amplification,  its  appliance,  re 
mained  for  the  individual  life.  It  was  the  seed  of  the 


260  SQUARE  PEGS. 

It  may  easily  have  been  that  the  fowls  of  the  air  and 
the  thorns  and  the  stones  caught  some  of  it  as  it  fell, 
and  turned  it  to  uselessness  or  contrary  use.  They  who 
had  never  reached  up  to  the  best  may  have  taken  coun 
tenance  and  comfort,  even  from  the  least,  the  mere 
earthly,  that  was  in  it.  They  may  have  grasped  at  the 
promise  of  such  success  as  they  most  coveted,  —  the 
beauty,  the  riches,  the  luxury,  the  power,  —  thinking  that 
then  they  would  make  the  good  use  of  them,  do  the  good 
errand  with  them ;  forgetting  that  it  is  they,  and  not 
the  righteousness,  that  are  to  be  the  added  things ;  that 
separately,  and  first,  they  are  the  promise  of  the  Evil. 
But  surely  some  seed  found  way  to  good  and  open  and 
honestly  waiting  ground. 

Estabel  went  with  it,  at  her  earliest  chance,  to  the 
Gladmother.  As  a  child  carries  a  flower,  or  a  bright 
pebble,  or  some  quite  curious,  unknown  thing  to  its 
mother,  she  had  come  to  carry  her  treasures  of  new 
thought,  her  half-solved  mysteries  of  new  knowledge, 
to  the  old,  wise,  young- with-angels' -youth  woman. 
Until  Estabel  knew  the  Gladmother,  she  had  had  only 
aunts. 

She  and  Lilian  sat,  literally  and  in  spirit,  at  the  feet 
of  her  who  in  body  and  in  spirit  had  been  hallowed  by 
the  heaven-touch;  whose  love  kept  her  so  close  to  them, 
and  whose  life  was  so  near  the  infinite  unveiling. 

They  asked  her  of  these  things ;  of  how  all  these 
different  possibilities  could  be ;  how  the  low  and  the 
high,  even  the  false  and  the  true,  could  be  of  one  gift 
and  promise.  And  about  the  terrible,  ignorant  choosing. 

And  she  told  them:  "Live  in  the  heart-world,  little 
girls  —  in  the  inside  of  things  —  not  in  the  vain  show. 
Get  behind  the  contradiction.  'In  all  these  things  is 
the  life  of  my  spirit. '  We  are  to  learn  that.  And  to 
say,  'Direct,  sanctify,  and  govern,  both  our  hearts  and 
bodies,  in  the  ways  of  thy  laws,  and  the  works  of  thy 
commandments.'  'That  loving  thee  above  all  things,' 


THIXGS  :   AND  SPIRIT.  261 

—  and  yet  in  all  things,  — '  we  may  obtain  thy  pro 
mises,  which  exceed  all  that  we  can  desire.'  '  That  we 
may  so  pass  through  things  temporal,  as  finally  to  lose 
not  the  things  eternal. '  The  eternal  things  are  real  — 
the  reality  of  the  signs.  We  shall  lose  nothing,  we 
shall  let  go  of  nothing,  except  falsehood  and  wrong. 
'In  that  Christ  died,  he  died  unto  sin,  once;  hut  in  that 
he  liveth,  he  liveth  unto  God.'  It  's  all  in  the  Gospel, 
children;  it  's  the  good  news;  everything  is  God's,  and 
He  gives  everything  to  us." 

With  words  from  the  Word,  with  hits  from  the 
prayers  of  the  ages,  she  went  on  to  answer  them  as  it 
was  given  her  in  that  moment  to  speak.  She  spoke  as 
if  involuntarily ;  almost  as  within  herself.  That  which 
she  had  lived  hy  was  present  with  her,  to  meet  all  ques 
tion  as  it  had  met  her  own  in  all  time  of  her  own  need. 

She  made  them  see  in  some  degree  how  life  was  not 
meant  to  be  an  antagonism  of  conflicting  elements,  but 
in  all  things  one.  How  the  "Satan  in  things"  is  the 
self  in  them ;  the  separating  from,  and  losing  of  the  very 
life  in  all;  how  the  "first-seeking"  of  God's  Tightness 
is  the  joining  together  and  the  filling  full. 

"  'Whether  ye  eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do 
all  to  the  glory  of  God,'  "  she  said  again.  "Let  God 
shine  all  through,  from  the  heart  to  the  outside,  and  be 
reflected  back  again.  That  is  his  glory  and  what  makes 
us  glad.  'For  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  us,'  — in  the 
very  littlest  and  commonest  things,  — '  to  will  and  to  do 
according  to  his  good  pleasure.'  'It  is  the  will  of  God 
concerning  you.'  'For  it  is  your  Father's  good  pleasure 
to  give  you  the  kingdom.'  How  plain  —  and  how  dear 
—  it  is!" 

She  had  to  check  herself;  the  words  and  meanings 
linked,  reminded,  crowded  so.  They  were  all  so  famil 
iar  to  her  that  she  feared  she  might  forget  the  newness 
in  them  for  the  other,  younger  ones,  and  hurry  too 
much  upon  them.  She  fell  into  a  gentle  silence,  which 


262  .SQUARE  PEGS. 

was  less  the  end  of  speech  than  repose  upon  the  abund 
ant  reserve  from  which  speech  flowed. 

"Talk  more,  Gladmother,  please,"  begged  Lilian. 
"Tell  us  what  it  all  says  to  you.  We  can  see  that  it 
is  there,  when  you  repeat  it  and  put  it  together  like 
that.  But  we  want  it  in  small  words.  Cut  the  meat 
into  bits  for  us.  We  are  only  little  children,  you  know." 

"That  is  just  it."  said  the  old  lady.  "Be  little 
children.  Live  in  little  bits,  and  be  content.  Don't 
wish  or  worry  for  a  big  piece  of  anything.  The  big 
piece  is  the  Lord's.  Take  the  bread  as  He  breaks  it 
to  you.  Remember  the  bigness  —  and  the  multiplying 
—  is  all  in  His  heart,  and  yours.  Every  crumb  signi 
fies  the  whole  loaf.  Don't  crowd  and  struggle,  among 
things  or  against  other  people.  Come  in,  nearer,  out  of 
the  scramble,  close  to  the  Giver,  where  there  is  plenty 
of  room.  Come  out  of  the  wilderness,  into  the  home. 
And  then  be  patient  with  the  rest  till  they  come  in. 
Till  they  realize,  I  mean,  that  they  are  in.  That  the 
Lord's  house  is  in  the  midst,  and  all  around.  It  holds 
every  one  of  them  —  every  one  of  them  is  born  into  it 
—  only  they  don't  know.  They  are  blundering  around 
with  shut  eyes  in  the  dark  corners.  Most  of  us  are  like 
babies,  or  blind  kittens,  for  a  while.  But  we  are  alive, 
and  are  going  to  grow,  and  to  come  to  our  sight.  The 
Lord  waits,  from  generation  to  generation." 

"But  we  have  only  one  generation  to  live  in,"  said 
Estabel.  "And  it  is  perverse;  it  is  confusing;  our 
world  is  all  mixed  up.  We  can  hardly  tell  which  side 
we  are,  out  or  in." 

"It  shall  all  be  reconciled,"  said  Mrs.  Trubin.  "It 
was  what  Christ  came  for  —  to  break  down  the  wall  of 
partition,  and  make  both  one,  as  they  were  from  the 
beginning.  When  your  two  eyes  see  alike,  they  see  one 
thing.  Life  was  never  meant  to  be  divided  into  two. 
It  is  the  seamless  robe.  Body  and  soul  are  both  given, 
and  shall  always  be.  But  the  bodily  is  to  be  glorified. 


THINGS:  AND   SPIRIT.  263 

It  is  to  be  changed  in  all  its  form  and  life,  until  it  is 
like  his  who  is  able  by  his  working  to  subdue  all  things 
unto  Himself." 

"Did  you  understand  it  all  when  you  were  young, 
Gladmother?"  asked  Lilian.  "Didn't  you  just  want 
things  —  separate  things  —  then?  Didn't  you  want  to 
be  beautiful  ?  —  but  then  you  were  beautiful.  You 
didn't  have  to  want  that." 

"I  did  want.  I  wasn't  beautiful.  I  think  perhaps 
I  should  know  better  how  to  be,  now.  It  takes  a 
whole  life  —  and  more  than  this  life  —  to  grow  to  be 
ready  for  what  God  means,  and  as  He  means  it.  Some 
things  only  come  when  you  have  given  them  up.  I 
think  the  Lord  lets  us  stay  in  the  outsides,  sometimes, 
until  we  are  tired,  and  get  loose  of  them  and  can  come 
in  without  dragging  their  chips  and  rubbish  after  us. 
It 's  the  Temple,  you  see;  He  won't  have  the  merchan 
dise  or  the  confusion  in  it.  But  by  and  by  the  Temple 
is  to  be  everywhere,  and  everything  is  to  be  holy,  and 
living  is  to  be  worship." 

The  two  girls  looked  up  into  her  eyes  silently,  as  if 
they  might  read  there  the  vision  that  she  saw.  The 
Gladmother 's  eyes  were  lifted  up,  they  could  not  follow 
whither. 

Softly,  again,  the  words  of  Holy  Scripture  fell  from 
her  lips  as  if  their  letters  became  luminous  before  her 
in  the  spirit. 

"  'It  shall  come  to  pass,  that  in  the  place  where  it 
was  said  unto  them,  Ye  are  not  my  people,  —  there 
shall  they  be  called  the  children  of  the  living  God.' 
'On  the  very  bells  of  the  horses  it  is  to  be  written, 
Holiness  unto  the  Lord.'  'In  every  place  incense  shall 
be  offered  unto  my  Name,  and  a  pure  offering ;  for  my 
Name  shall  be  great  among  the  heathen,  saith  the  Lord 
of  Hosts.'  Because  that  is  his  very  Name,  signed  and 
declared  everywhere.  He  is  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  and 
the  hosts  shall  be  all  his.  The  hosts  of  things,  and  the 


264  SQUARE  PEGS. 

hosts  of  souls,  together ;  when  souls  see  things  as  He 
makes  them  for  souls  to  see.  When  they  find  his 
thoughts  in  them,  and  are  glad  in  them  with  his  glad 
ness  and  hecause  of  his  word.  '  Unite  my  heart, '  — 
make  one  life  for  it  from  the  outside  and  the  in  — '  to 
fear  thy  name.'  'The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them 
that  fear  Him. '  And  to  fear  is  not  to  he  afraid,  hut 
to  see  and  own  with  a  sweet,  awful  joy.  This  is  the 
life  that  is  to  come.  When  we  helieve  so,  how  can  we 
be  restless  with  ourselves,  or  despise  anybody  else  ? 
The  difference  is  just  that  some  don't  know,  and  some 
only  know  a  little.  But  'all  shall  know,  from  the  least 
unto  the  greatest.'  ' 

The  Gladmother  leaned  back  among  her  cushions. 
She  had  talked  enough. 

A  purple  glory  shot  in  a  parted  ray  from  her  inter 
cepting  crystals,  threading  through  among  her  ferns, 
and  came  across  upon  the  wall  behind  her  overhead. 

The  two  girls  looked  up,  and  saw  it  there,  but  the 
Gladmother  did  not  know. 

It  was  as  if  some  angel  hand  had  brought  a  coal  from 
off  the  altar,  and  lighted  up  a  fair,  attesting  sign. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

ASTIGMATISM:  AND  WINDMILLS. 

IT  was  not  a  blithesome  winter  to  Mrs.  Clymer. 
The  Pequant  episode,  which  to  a  woman  of  stronger 
social  command  would  have  been  a  passing  annoyance, 
an  incident  of  girlish  enthusiasm  and  extravagance  ex 
cusable  for  motive  and  because  of  an  inexperience  soon 
to  be  outgrown,  was  a  chafing  mortification,  a  pursuing 
discredit.  She  remembered  it  all  the  time ;  she  thought 
nobody  else  ever  forgot  it.  It  did  keep  coming  round 
to  her  in  distorted,  aggravated  versions. 

Estabel  had  taken  up  some  fancied  affront,  and 
slapped  society  in  the  face.  She  had  rushed  into  the 
middle  of  a  dance ;  had  stopped  the  music,  broken  up 
the  evening ;  shrieked  out  something  denouncing  the 
whole  company.  It  was  a  most  extraordinary  perfor 
mance  ;  perfectly  theatrical.  Whatever  the  original 
matter  was,  she  had  made  it  worse ;  a  family  chiefly 
concerned  had  left  the  next  day;  the  Clymers  had 
hardly  been  spoken  to  afterward,  and  had  returned  to 
Topthorpe  suddenly  a  little  later.  It  was  a  great  pity; 
how  the  poor  people  must  feel!  And  the  girl,  of 
course,  had  thrown  herself  hopelessly  out  of  everything. 

More  or  less  of  this,  civilly  covered  and  restrained,  was 
brought  to  Mrs.  Clymer  in  remark  and  question.  What 
was  not  literally  repeated  she  could  imagine.  She  met 
all  mention  with  a  commendable  presence  of  mind  that 
lasted  just  long  enough  for  the  instant  need,  and  reserved 
each  time  an  added  sting  for  the  bad  quarter  hours  that 
were  counting  up  into  days  and  weeks. 


266  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"  Oh,  it  was  not  at  all  like  that, "  she  would  say 
easily  and  smilingly;  "the  dance  was  at  an  end.  The 
poor  little  overdressed  stranger  got  bewildered  —  she 
had  made  rather  a  goose  of  herself,  and  the  young  peo 
ple  had  been  amused.  Estabel  misunderstood  and  was 
very  indignant ;  she  did  speak  out  a  word  or  two  to  the 
ruder  ones,  and  marched  the  silly  little  thing  off  under 
her  own  small  wing.  It  was  really  funny ;  but  the  best 
feeling  of  the  company  was  with  her ;  the  nicest  people 
even  praised  her.  She  had  been  quite  a  favorite  all 
through  the  season;  and  I  don't  think  she  lost  any 
thing." 

Mrs.  Clymer  assumed  rather  cleverly ;  but  she  as 
sumed  what  might  have  been  more  readily  granted  if 
she  had  waited  for  the  granting.  She  would  better  have 
le€t  the  nice  people  to  their  own  voluntary  leniency. 
They  smiled  a  little  when  they  heard  her  rendering  of 
the  affair.  Mrs.  Clymer  felt  the  smile  telepathically  in 
her  own  honestly  miserable  distance,  when  she  had  fired 
her  plucky  shot  and  retreated  within  her  lines. 

Besides,  or  no  little  in  consequence,  she  was  not 
well.  She  had  taken  an  influenza  in  the  early  weeks 
of  winter,  and  it  had  followed  her  on  and  kept  her 
wretched  till  after  the  New  Year.  She  said  she  was 
tired  of  everything.  She  wished  she  could  get  away, 
out  of  the  cold.  She  wished  she  could  go  to  Europe. 
She  wished  she  need  not  have  any  worry  or  responsibil 
ity.  That  meant  that  the  responsibility  she  had  chosen 
to  take  up  had  proved  too  much  for  her. 

"Why  don't  you  go  to  Europe,  Aunt  Vera?  "  Estabel 
had  asked  her. 

"You  're  one  reason,"  Mrs.  Clymer  had  replied 
shortly.  And  then  she  had  repented  of  the  unkindness, 
and  added,  "I  had  always  thought  I  should  take  you 
some  time,  perhaps,  after  you  had  finished  school.  I 
don't  know  now.  Things  in  general  don't  seem  to 
agree  with  you." 


ASTIGMATISM  :   AND   WINDMILLS.          267 

Estabel's  generous  feeling  came  up  into  her  face  in 
flushing  color  and  shine  of  stoutly  repressed  tears. 

"I  am  very  happy  in  all  but  not  pleasing  you,  Aunt 
Vera. "  Her  voice  shook  a  little,  but  it  was  with  the 
low,  strong  tremolo  of  a  contained  emotion. 

"Why  don't  you  please  me,  then?  "  Mrs.  Clymer  an 
swered  pettishly.  "But  I  suppose  it  's  too  late  now." 

Then  Estabel  walked  away  to  a  window,  and  stood 
there,  hiding  what  would  not  let  her  speak  again. 
There  was  a  spasm  in  her  throat,  a  quiver  of  her  proud, 
vainly  struggling  lip,  and  the  full  drops  that  swelled 
hot  within  her  eyelids  brimmed  over. 

When  she  turned  round  her  aunt  had  left  the  room, 
and  Ulick  North  stood  in  the  farther  doorway. 

Her  telltale  handkerchief  was  crumpled  in  her  hand ; 
her  brow  and  eyes  were  red  with  the  restraint  that 
shows  heavier  trace  than  easy  weeping. 

Ulick  saw  that  there  was  trouble ;  Estabel  knew  that 
he  could  but  see.  She  came  straight  toward  him. 

"It  is  one  of  my  old  bothers,"  she  said.  "Don't 
mind."  And  she  gave  him  her  hand. 

Ordinarily  she  avoided  this  action ;  for  Dr.  North 
had  a  way  of  taking  but  a  cool,  sliding  hold,  out  of 
which  the  offered  friendliness  had  to  drop.  Estabel 
wondered  if  he  did  so  with  everybody,  or  only  with 
her.  It  was  evident,  at  least,  that  even  in  a  common 
hand-shake  Ulick  North  would  put  no  personal  demon 
stration. 

She  recollected  herself  upon  the  instant,  and  did  not 
let  her  own  fingers  close ;  so  that  it  happened  that  Dr. 
North  found  himself  for  a  second's  space  slightly  re 
taining  what  would  not  stay  with  him.  He  smiled  as 
they  both  sat  down. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Aunt  Vera  and  me?  "  she 
questioned  him  abruptly,  as  if  the  interrogation  would 
not  more  naturally,  under  the  circumstances,  have  come 
from  him.  She  did  not  refer  to  passing  circumstance, 


268  SQUARE   PEGS. 

however,  but  to  normal  state.  And  Dr.  North  did  not 
treat  symptoms,  but  the  ail  behind  the  symptoms. 

"Astigmatism,"  he  said. 

"I  suppose  that  tells  me  —  if  I  understood,"  said 
Estabel. 

"Eyes  don't  focus  alike.  Objects  appear  in  strained 
relations.  Possibly  a  difference  in  line  of  axis,  also. 
That  complicates  still  more.  One  sees  up  and  the  other 
down." 

He  was  doubtless  trying  to  divert  the  immediate  pres 
sure  of  her  feeling  by  starting  a  mental  counteraction. 

"Which  is  right?  I  don't  mean  she  or  I  —  but 
which  way  of  looking  ?  " 

"Ah?"  There  was  both  ejaculation  and  interroga 
tion  in  the  syllable.  "Who  shall  determine?  Every 
man  is  right  in  his  own  eyes  —  and  every  eye  in  its  own 
fashion." 

"Especially  every  woman  —  and  each  of  every  wo 
man's  eyes?  " 

Then  they  both  laughed.  Ulick  had  got  her  just 
where  he  wanted  her  to  be. 

"She  wants  to  go  to  Europe,  and  she  says  I  'm  the 
reason  she  can't  go." 

"Oh,  no;   not  the  only  reason." 

"No.      She  said  '  one  reason.'  ' 

"Another  is  West  Gardens;  and  another,  Western 
shares.  Houses  going  up,  and  some  stocks  threatening 
to  go  down.  It  would  be  the  best  thing  for  her.  I  '11 
advise  it  as  soon  as  I  see  there  would  be  any  practical 
use.  Europe  cures  a  good  many  things  that  can't  get 
well  on  this  side.  And  it  's  a  great  relief  to  doctors." 

"Then  you  don't  think  I  hinder  by  staying  here? 
There  's  always  my  other  aunt  and  Stillwick,  you 
know. " 

"I  don't  think  you  hinder  anything,  except,  perhaps, 
yourself.  And  I'm  not  sure  about  that.  Haven't 
you  been  trying  a  little  bout  with  a  windmill  ?  "  And 


ASTIGMATISM:   AND    WINDMILLS.          269 

Dr.  North  laughed  slightly,  glancing  sidewise  at  Es- 
tahel  out  of  his  shrewd  eyes,  as  he  sat,  leaning  forward 
with  his  arms  along  his  knees,  twisting  a  bit  of  paper 
he  had  picked  up  into  certain  odd  shapes. 

'"Well.  The  windmill  stopped  whirling  —  for  a 
minute,  anyway. " 

"How  do  you  pronounce  Q-u-i-x-o-t-e?  "  Dr.  North 
spelled  the  name  of  Cervantes 's  doughty  knight  as  if  he 
did  not  know  what  to  do  with  the  letters. 

"I  don't.  I  suppose  you  mean,  how  would  it  be 
proper  to  pronounce  it.  The  proper  way  is  the  reason 
I  don't  pronounce  it  at  all.  It  is  the  reason  I  don't  do 
several  other  things." 

"Exactly.  That  is  sufficiently  pronounced.  Well, 
wouldn't  the  natural  derivation  from  the  word  in  the 
proper  way  be  something  like  '  chaotic  '  ?  " 

"Wouldn't  you  try  to  stop  a  windmill  if  you  saw  it 
knocking  other  people  down  ?  "  Estabel  answered  from 
the  root  of  the  matter,  leaving  the  derivable  consequence 
to  take  care  of  itself. 

"  AVith  my  bare  hands,  and  get  my  arms  broken  ?  I 
don't  know.  I  believe  you  would.  Perhaps  I  should 
only  sit  still  and  smoke." 

"And  sneer  at  windmills." 

"Not  necessarily.  Let  them  grind  their  own  corn. 
The  sneering  is  for  the  simple  folk  who  think  it  fine  to 
get  within  sweep  of  their  sails." 

"It  's  a  bad  thing  to  get  into  the  way  of  putting 
everything  down  with  a  scoff,  and  then  thinking  that  it 
is  down." 

"  Very  sententious,  Estabel.  And  you  have  chosen  the 
right  word  now.  To  '  scoff  '  is  only  to  shove,  anyhow. " 

P]stabel  looked  up  at  him  shyly,  a  lovely  glow  in  her 
face.  Was  it  because  he  felt  friendly  enough  —  enough 
in  touch  with  her  —  to  call  her  by  her  name,  or  be 
cause  of  the  honest  frankness  with  which  he  threw  aside 
irony  to  acknowledge  the  right  ? 


270  SQUARE  PEGS. 

She  met  a  look;  it  was  only  a  look.  But  spirits 
flash  upon  each  other  so,  when  a  word  is  slow  or  guards 
itself.  Somehow  she  felt  herself  inside  a  barrier  —  as 
if  the  truth  in  her  had  found  the  truth  in  him,  and 
claimed  it. 

It  was  a  great  thing,  as  Sara  Sullivant  had  said,  to  be 
tolerated  —  to  be  "put  up  with"  —by  Ulick  North. 
To  find  a  little  value,  a  little  approval,  in  his  eyes ;  to 
have  them  lighten  upon  her  with  an  instant's  under 
standing  and  assent ;  to  have  her  name  escape  him  as  if 
he  held  her  in  his  thoughts  apart  from  prejudice;  as 
if  she  had  become  individual  to  him,  excepted  from  the 
common  human  nature  that  he  so  often  derided ;  that 
was  —  what  was  it  ?  Triumph  ?  Whether  she  knew  it 
or  not,  it  was  something  a  great  deal  sweeter  than 
triumph. 

Was  Dr.  North's  little  surrender  in  their  casual  tilt 
of  words  as  sweet  to  him  ? 

In  the  moment's  silence  between  them  which  fol 
lowed,  Aunt  Vera  stepped  inside  the  room  upon  the 
deep,  soft  velvet  of  her  Aubusson  carpet,  without  their 
notice. 

The  woman  caught  the  woman's  dawning  look  in  the 
young  girl's  face. 

And  Ulick  North,  leaning  toward  her,  his  fingers 
playing  with  a  bit  of  paper,  his  eyes  upon  the  gentle 
bend  of  her  sensitive  lips,  upon  the  delicately  mantling 
flush  that  was  giving  her  again  one  of  her  moments  of 
beauty  —  upon  the  downcast  eyelids  that  had  made 
haste  to  shut  away  the  involuntary  flash  —  what  did  he 
mean? 

"That  will  not  do,"  Mrs.  Clymer  said  to  herself,  as 
she  stepped  back,  soundlessly,  to  make  her  entry  again 
from  behind  them,,  and  with  more  careful  demonstra 
tion.  "And  the  other  thing  will  never  come  about  in 
Topthorpe.  It  is  time  to  break  camp  —  if  it  could  be 
done." 


ASTIGMATISM  :   AND   WINDMILLS.         271 

The  doorbell  rang.  Mrs.  Clymer  spoke  to  Archibald 
as  he  came  through  from  his  pantry  habitat  to  answer 
it.  Then  she  advanced  into  the  room,  where  she  found 
Ulick  now  standing  with  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"Going?  "  she  asked  cheerfully.  "I  did  not  know 
you  were  here.  Won't  you  stay  and  dine?  " 

Dr.  North  could  not  stay.  He  had  some  patients  to 
see.  And  he  went  out  through  the  hall,  where  Archi 
bald  reopened  the  door  for  him  which  he  had  just  closed 
upon  a  declined  visitor. 

Aunt  Vera  turned  round  to  Estabel.  That  young 
woman  stood  where  she  had  risen  when  Dr.  North  had 
taken  leave.  She  had  just  had  time,  since  he  had 
turned  away,  to  stoop  and  pick  up  the  twisted  bit  of 
paper  that  he  had  let  fall.  Aunt  Vera  was  particular 
as  to  any  little  litter  upon  her  floors  or  furniture. 

"Why  didn't  you  send  for  me  to  see  Dr.  North?  " 
Mrs.  Clymer  asked  her.  "Don't  you  know  that  it  isn't 
quite  young-ladylike  to  appropriate  a  gentleman's  visit 
to  yourself  ?  " 

Estabel  colored  with  a  different  flush  from  that 
which  had  but  just  softly  subsided.  Suddenly  she  felt 
ashamed.  The  twisted  paper  seemed  to  develop  some 
latent  heat  between  her  fingers.  It  arraigned  her  of  a 
motive.  She  perceived  in  herself  the  pleasure  of  its 
reminder  of  the  look  and  tone  that  had  accompanied  its 
handling.  Folded  up  in  it  was  a  secret  that  she  would 
not  consciously  have  searched  into,  that  she  would  not 
deliberately  have  been  glad  of,  but  that  made  her 
world  a  little  brighter  for  its  being  there,  and  that  she 
instinctively  held  fast.  She  was  only  a  little  school 
girl,  and  Dr.  North  was  a  wise,  strong,  keen- judging 
man.  He  criticised  her,  and  made  her  half  indignant, 
half  afraid.  Yet  there  had  been  that  one  instant  of 
an  equal  understanding,  a  sympathetic  recognition,  a 
giving  way,  even,  before  her  simple  word ;  and  it  had 
made  her  happy.  Dr.  North's  whole  visit  to-day  had 


272  SQUARE   PEGS. 

been  so  kindly,  so  comforting,  that  it  had  indeed  put 
Aunt  Vera  comfortably,  and  altogether,  out  of  her  head. 

Now  Aunt  Vera  stood  there,  calling  her  to  account ; 
and  more  sharply,  even,  than  she  knew. 

"He  did  not  ask  —  I  did  not  think  —  he  always 
drops  in  just  as  it  happens, "  she  stammered. 

"You  will  please  think  the  next  time.  Visitors  to 
my  house  usually  expect  to  see  me.  At  least,  it  is 
proper  they  should.  And  don't  imagine" —  she  em 
phasized  the  words  slowly,  ominously,  looking  severely 
into  Estabel's  blushing  face,  and  pausing,  as  if  there 
were  something  that,  after  all,  could  not  easily  be 
spoken. 

"Aunt  Vera!  Hush!  "  cried  Estabel,  and  flew  away 
with  the  cry,  like  a  frightened  bird. 

Mrs.  Clymer  picked  up  the  paper  that  had  again  been 
dropped.  The  inanimate  thing  had  got  some  strong 
electric  charging  in  its  successive  manipulations,  by  the 
time  Aunt  Vera  tossed  it  into  the  grate. 

If  inanimate  things  could  only  deliver  up  their  stor 
age,  the  world  would  be  alight  and  alive  with  lightning 
revelations. 

"That  will  do  for  this  time,"  was  the  lady's  compla 
cent  reflection.  "Perhaps  it  will  last  till  something 
better  can  be  done.  The  rest  of  the  winter  will  have 
to  be  worried  through,  I  suppose.  But  this  must  stop, 
right  here.  It  might  have  answered  —  but  it  won't. 
Two  such  impracticables !  Two  bees  in  the  family  bon 
net  !  We  might  as  well  all  go  into  a  lunatic  asylum 
together. " 

Aunt  Vera  laughed  —  and  coughed.  The  heat  of 
annoyance  had  died  out  of  her  face,  and  left  her  pale. 
She  went  and  sat  down  close  to  the  fire,  threw  the 
paper  wisp  upon  the  coals,  and  laid  her  head  back 
against  the  cushion  of  her  chair.  Certainly  she  was  not 
Avell,  and  things  were  hard  upon  her. 

She  sat,  considering,  perplexedly.      Mrs.  Clymer  was 


ASTIGMATISM:  AND  WINDMILLS.         273 

not  great  in  generalship.  She  made  no  skillful,  patient 
parallels  of  approach.  She  massed  her  forces,  and 
marched  right  up  against  whatever  defense  of  position. 
Once  repulsed,  the  campaign  was  over.  She  retreated 
across  country. 

She  would  like  to  take  back  now  all  that  she  had 
done.  She  wished  she  had  sent  Estabel  away  to  board 
ing-school,  and  brought  her  back  to  Topthorpe,  finished. 
And  yet  she  knew  that  Topthorpe  would  hardly  allow 
anything  to  be  finished  that  was  not  finished  there ;  or 
any  social  beginning  to  be  readily  made  except  the  be 
ginning  of  being  born  in  Topthorpe. 

She  had  vaguely  planned  to  take  her  niece,  some 
time,  to  Europe.  Unless,  indeed,  developments  at 
home  should  set  this  happily  aside  and  make  it  need 
less.  She  began  to  think  she  had  been  a  goose  to  take 
her  from  Aunt  Esther  and  Cousin  Lucy,  and  the  quiet 
ways  and  places  that  they  were  all  used  to  together, 
and  where  things  might  happen  naturally.  Estabel  had 
been  the  only  young  girl  there,  to  be  accounted  of ;  she 
had  the  strong  advantage  of  local  comparison.  Some 
flowers  grow  best  and  show  best  in  their  own  woods. 
The  most  likely  chance  for  that  "other  thing"  would 
be  back  in  Stillwick,  after  all. 

Next  winter  Estabel  would  be  eighteen.  She  would 
have  had  school  enough.  She  would  go  back  with  an 
added  superiority  to  her  surroundings.  She  would  be 
more  companionable  than  ever  to  Miss  Henslee,  more  in 
requisition  than  ever  at  the  Place.  Old  Colonel  Hens- 
lee  was  failing  fast.  Of  course,  that  would  be  the 
wisest  way.  And  she  and  Mr.  Clymer  would  go  abroad. 
She  would  shake  the  dust  of  Topthorpe  off  her  feet  and 
put  the  Atlantic  between  herself  and  her  discomfitures. 
After  things  had  all  come  round,  they  could  return  se 
renely,  with  more  pictures,  more  silks  and  jewels,  more 
rugs  and  tapestries,  more  old  relics  from  the  palaces 
that  had  emptied  themselves  into  the  junk  shops,  and 


274  SQUARE  PEGS. 

make  fresh  landing,  with  a  flood  tide,  at  higher  water 
mark. 

Aunt  Vera,  reaching  this  brilliant  conclusion,  felt  a 
good  deal  better. 

She  was  glad  she  had  asked  Ulick  to  stay  to  dinner. 
It  would  not  do  to  let  him  suspect  her  suspicions.  He 
was  a  cross  grain.  It  would  work  just  the  wrong  way. 
Estabel  was  a  cross-grain;  but  she  was  the  feminine  of 
it.  With  a  woman,  in  such  things,  the  cross  working 
is  against  the  grain  of  her  own  consciousness.  She  had 
made  Estabel  conscious.  Mrs.  Clymer  felt  all  this 
without  reasoning  it.  She  was  not  a  reasoning  person; 
but  she  arrived  at  conclusions  in  the  facile  way  of  na 
tures  that  do  not  trouble  themselves  with  going  deep. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

B£ZIQUE. 

AUNT  VERA  looked  with  satisfaction  upon  the  results 
she  had.  now  compassed.  Estabel  kept  carefully  away 
from  Dr.  North,  who  came  to  the  house  much  as  usual. 
He  never  happened  now  to  find  her  alone.  She  seemed 
to  have  a  special  ear  for  his  ring,  a  special  sense  of  his 
coming.  She  was  out  one  way  as  he  came  in  the  other, 
and  hastened  scrupulously  to  announce  his  presence  to 
Aunt  Vera.  If  Aunt  Vera  were  out,  she  could  not  be 
found  herself. 

Harry  Henslee  came  too,  in  the  old,  easy  way.  Es 
tabel  laughed  and  talked  with  him,  listened  to  his 
bright  commonplace,  which  she  met  as  brightly,  was 
pleased  when  he  told  her  of  his  plans. 

She  would  not  go  to  any  young  parties  this  winter. 

Sometimes,  of  course,  Dr.  North  and  Harry  would  be 
at  the  house  together.  Estabel  would  then  seem  to  be 
alive  only  on  the  child  side  of  her.  A  conundrum  or  a 
puzzle,  a  game  of  checkers  or  be"zique,  would  occupy  her 
with  the  boy,  while  the  man  looked  on  and  thought  he 
understood,  being  really  miles  away  from  understanding 
at  all. 

Mrs.  Clymer  knitted  up  her  magic  balls  or  practised 
her  new  crochet,  counting  stitches  and  measuring 
lengths,  or  winding  wools  which  she  made  Ulick  hold 
for  her. 

In  those  days  Ulick 's  calls  were  short. 

"Oh,  isn't  that  too  bad?"  Estabel  cried  one  even 
ing,  as  a  hand  at  be'zique  came  to  an  end.  "A  double 


276  SQUARE  PEGS. 

just  ready  to  declare,  and  could  n't  take  the  last 
trick !  " 

"There  's  a  good  deal  of  be*zique  in  human  life,"  re 
marked  Mr.  Clymer  with  complacence  at  his  own  per 
spicacity. 

Dr.  North  had  just  come  in. 

"People  don't  play  the  right  cards  in  time.  Isn't 
it  so,  Ulick  ?  " 

"Or  the  right  cards  don't  come  in  time,"  replied  the 
young  doctor.  "We  have  to  take  what  turns  up  for 
us,  and  wait  all  through  the  game,  perhaps,  before  it 
does  turn  up." 

"You  see,"  said  Estabel,  "one  is  so  apt  to  hold  on 
to  the  wrong  thing.  If  I  hadn't  tried  for  aces,  I 
might  have  made  kings,  and  then  I  lost  both,  and  the 
lead,  and  could  do  nothing  with  my  double  when  it 
came." 

"Moral:  don't  try  for  too  much,  and  you  may  get 
something, "  returned  Ulick  carelessly. 

"Would  you  be  satisfied  with  that?  "  demanded  Es 
tabel,  forgetting  reserve  and  unheeding  personality  in 
eagerness  for  the  abstract  conclusion.  "I  'd  rather  try 
for  the  highest,  if  I  only  got  it  —  as  I  did  now  —  with 
my  last  breath." 

"  Depends  upon  what  is  agreed  on  for  the  highest, " 
Ulick  answered,  coolly.  "I  believe  in  bdzique  it  is 
counted  very  much  as  elsewhere.  The  tens  and  the 
aces  and  the  people  that  are  all  of  a  sort.  And  the 
matches  between  queens  and  jacks  —  if  they  are  only 
jacks  of  diamonds." 

"The  world  in  a  pack  of  cards,"  said  Mr.  Clymer. 

"  Everything  is  a  microcosm,  if  you  take  a  sharp  look 
at  it,  "  returned  the  doctor.  "  Been  out  to-day  ?  "  He 
had  taken  a  seat  beside  his  uncle. 

Estabel  shuffled  her  cards  together  and  began  to  deal 
again,  moving  slightly  in  her  chair,  so  that  the  elder 
group  and  the  light  of  the  chandelier  were  behind  her. 


BfiZIQUE.  277 

Mr.  Clymer  had  rheumatism.  He  had  lately  been 
laid  up  with  a  sharp  attack.  His  nephew,  in  whose 
professional  ability  he  had  strong  confidence,  had  been 
in  attendance.  Apart  from  the  value  of  his  services, 
it  was  as  well,  also,  to  keep  professional  profit  within 
the  family.  It  was  one  way  by  which  Uncle  Abel  could 
feel  that  he  was  comfortably  discharging  his  family 
obligations. 

"Down-town  for  an  hour  at  'change  time.  Heard 
the  news  ?  " 

"Probably  not.      I  don't  get  the  news  on  'change." 

"Chilstone  and  Marish's  notes  went  to  protest." 

Mrs.  Clymer  threw  herself  upright  in  her  chair,  as  if 
she  had  been  galvanized.  She  dropped  three  stitches 
from  her  knitting  needle,  her  ball  of  worsted  rolled 
down  upon  the  carpet,  and  her  eyeglasses  slipped  off 
her  nose. 

"Failed?"  she  ejaculated. 

"That 's  what  it's  commonly  called,"  returned  her 
husband  quite  composedly. 

"You  don't  mean  so?  Why  didn't  you  tell  of  it 
before  ?  What  will  they  do  ?  " 

"Just  what  other  men  do.  Settle  up  the  best  way 
they  can,  and  go  on  again." 

"  But    they  —  the  family  ?     How   will   they   live  ?  " 
Mrs.  Clymer  seemed  almost  in  a  hurry  to  hear  that  they 
would  not  be  able  to  live  at  all.      Somehow,  the  more 
there  are  killed  and  wounded,  the  more  interesting  — 
as  news  —  a  disaster  appears  to  be. 

Mr.  Clymer  laughed.  "As  they  always  have  lived, 
probably.  You  won't  get  rid  of  them  out  of  Mount 
Street,  Perseverance." 

Once  in  a  great  while  Mr.  Clymer  called  his  wife  by 
her  whole,  obsolete  Christian  name ;  perhaps  because 
she  so  carefully  avoided  calling  him  "Abel." 

Estabel  and  Harry  both  looked  round,  turning  toward 
the  speakers.  Dr.  North  picked  up  Mrs.  Clymer's  ball 


278  SQUARE  PEGS.  ' 

and  laid  it  on  her  lap,  whence  she  immediately  let  it 
roll  again. 

"But  I  thought  when  people  failed,  everything  had 
to  go." 

"Oh,  not  at  all.  A  house  may  take  fire,  and  yet 
not  burn  down  to  the  ground." 

"When  that  happens  the  small  boy  is  ill-used,"  re 
marked  Dr.  North.  "And  perhaps  some  of  the  bigger 
lookers-on.  Human  nature  demands  the  utmost  of  an 
event."  His  mouth  wore  its  curve  of  amused  irony. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Ulick, " 
said  his  aunt-in-law.  "I  don't  wish  anybody  misfor 
tune,  but  I  should  think  they  would  have  to  be  poor." 

"Mrs.  Chilstone  hasn't  failed,"  explained  Uncle 
Abel.  "That  's  well  taken  care  of.  Chilstone  's  a  man 
who  always  knows  what  he  is  about.  A  wife  is  a  good 
insurance  policy. " 

Estabel  had  laid  down  her  cards,  and  now  turned 
square  about.  No  one  spoke  immediately,  and  she  ven 
tured  to  ask  a  question. 

"  What  does  that  mean,  Uncle  Clymer  ?  " 

"It  means  that  a  wife  is  a  man's  preferred  creditor. 
She  has  the  best  right." 

"What  is  a  preferred  creditor?  " 

"One  who  has  security  of  being  paid  first." 

"  Whatever  becomes  of  the  rest, "  supplemented  Dr. 
North  quietly,  reaching  over  to  take  up  Estabel 's  dial- 
counter,  and  presently  proceeding  to  move  its  indexes 
back  and  forth  mechanically,  to  the  entire  derangement 
of  her  score. 

Estabel  did  not  notice.  "Is  that  right?"  she  pur 
sued.  "I  thought  wives  were  their  husband's  partners. 
I  should  think  the  debts  would  be  theirs,  too." 

Mr.  Clymer  lifted  his  head  with  a  challenged  air. 
There  was  a  very  positive  tone  in  his  voice  as  he  re 
plied  : 

"Liabilities     depend     on     partnership     agreements. 


BfiZIQUE.  279 

'  With  all  my  worldly  goods  I  thee  endow '  is  the  man's 
contract.  His  first  duty  is  to  his  wife." 

"But  if  his  wife  was  endowed  with  what  he  owed  "  — 

"She  isn't.  He  gives  her  what  he  has.  What  he 
may  owe  afterward  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  It  is 
his  business  to  see  that  it  shall  not  have.  A  man  is 
bound  to  take  care  of  his  wife, "  he  repeated. 

"  Only  I  thought  you  said  it  was  insurance, "  persisted 
Estabel  in  all  simplicity.  She  never  thought  that  her 
uncle  was  justifying  himself.  She  supposed  it  was  Mr. 
Chilstone,  and  a  general  principle.  The  general  princi 
ples  of  the  world  interested  Estabel  Charlock  very 
much. 

"Isn't  insurance  a  plan  to  get  back  something  that 
will  make  up  a  loss  ?  " 

Dr.  North  laughed.  He  put  down  the  bdzique  coun 
ter  and  glanced  up.  The  little  indexes  on  the  two  dials 
showed  a  round  reckoning  of  two  thousand.  Harry 
Henslee  turned  them  back  to  their  places  in  the  count, 
which  he  remembered. 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  it.  Stick  to  your 
game, "  Mr.  Clymer  said  testily.  He  replied  more  to 
Ulick  North's  look  and  smile  than  to  the  girl's  words. 

Estabel  resumed  her  hand. 

"I  wouldn't  be  anybody's  wife  that  would  make  an 
insurance  policy  of  me, "  she  remarked  with  an  honest 
serenity,  spreading  out  the  bits  of  pasteboard  in  her 
fingers.  "I  declare  a  royal  marriage,  Harry;"  and 
laid  down  the  pair. 

"  I  should  think  you  did,  beforehand !  "  shouted 
Harry  with  great  glee.  "Only  remember,  you  must 
get  your  king  of  trumps  first.  You  may  have  to  wait 
a  good  while  for  him." 

"Well,  I  did  wait.  I  had  a  common  marriage  in  my 
hand,  too.  But  I  had  to  break  that  up  to  take  the  trick." 

"Oh,  you  jilt!  Do  you  know  half  how  funny  you 
are,  Estabel?  "  And  Harry's  shout  broke  forth  again. 


280  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Can't  you  play  without  such  a  noise?"  demanded 
Mr.  Clymer,  who  had  wheeled  round  in  his  chair  toward 
the  fire,  broken  up  a  big  lump  of  cannel  coal  with  a  vig 
orous  thump,  and  betaken  himself  again  to  the  broad 
sheet  of  his  "Journal  of  Commerce." 

"Anyway,"  soliloquized  Mrs.  Clymer  with  reassur 
ance,  "they  can't  look  over  everybody's  heads  any 
longer."  And  her  knitting  needles  began  their  easy 
click  again,  as  she  settled  herself  back  in  her  cushions 
to  think  over  the  bit  of  news  so  briefly  told  and  ex 
plained,  and  paraphrase  it  to  her  full  inward  satisfac 
tion. 

Dr.  North  watched  the  be"zique  players  a  few  mo 
ments,  as  a  rapid  count  on  Estabel's  part  went  on,  until 
she  made  a  triumphant  final  score  with  sequence  of 
trumps. 

Then  he  and  Harry  went  away  together.  They  were 
very  good  friends. 

"  The  talk  got  rather  ticklish  to-night, "  said  the 
younger  fellow,  buttoning  up  his  overcoat  closer  as  the 
cold  blast  through  Mount  Street  struck  them. 

Dr.  North  walked  up  the  length  of  a  block  with 
Harry  before  he  turned  across  toward  Clover  Street. 

"I  'd  have  liked  to  hear  it  out  a  little  longer,"  the 
latter  went  on.  "Only  Estabel  would  have  gotten  fur 
ther  into  the  hot  water  —  or  put  somebody  else  in.  She 
was  either  mighty  deep  or  mighty  simple." 

"Both,  I  think,"  returned  the  doctor.  "Simpleness 
—  of  a  kind  —  goes  deep. " 

"She  was  plucky,  anyhow  —  as  usual." 

Dr.  North  did  not  reply  to  that.  He  was  thinking 
that  a  young  man  might  not  speak  just  so  of  a  girl  he 
was  in  love  with.  It  further  crossed  his  mind  that  the 
little  play  of  metaphor  over  the  cards  would  not  have 
gone  on  between  two  who  had  any  sensitive  mutual  con 
sciousness.  Notwithstanding  that  he  felt  himself  as 
decidedly  outside  as  ever,  —  more  left  aside  than  ever, 


BEZIQUE.  281 

indeed,  of  late,  —  these  indications  were  not  unwelcome 
to  him.  As  to  the  be'zique,  it  had  seemed  to  him  that 
Estabel  had  been  very  charmingly  literal ;  and  in  that 
very  literalness  had,  without  smallest  intention,  dis 
closed  a  larger  truth  of  herself  that  might  well  be  pro 
phecy.  He  distinctly  hoped  it  might  be. 

What  did  not  occur  to  him  with  equal  force  was  that 
he,  who  had  thought  he  distrusted  the  whole  world,  was 
beginning  to  believe  almost  absolutely  in  this  little 
schoolgirl ;  and  that  something  which  unbelief  had 
been  hindering  in  his  life  was,  with  a  new  faith,  stir 
ring  toward  some  fresh,  if  remote  possibility.  He 
either  did  not  suspect  it  in  himself,  or  he  turned  will 
fully  from  self-detection.  If  the  discovery  had  closely 
threatened  him,  he  would  have  put  it  aside  with  that 
theoretical  substitution  of  motive  by  which  he  was  wont 
to  refer  to  the  love  of  mere  analytical  research  any  in 
terest  in  individual  human  character. 

"She  is  a  schoolgirl,"  he  would  have  said.  "She  is 
not  a  woman,  in  the  world.  One  wonders  if  she  will 
be  that  soon.  Will  the  world  creep  upon  her,  as  the 
years  must  ?  " 

It  seemed .  to  him  as  if  there  had  been  a  long  pause, 
when  Harry  Henslee  said  again,  or  really  only  went  on 
to  say,  "It  is  because  she  means  things.  She  's  down 
right  honest,  through  and  through.  I  've  known  her 
all  my  life." 

With  that  they  came  to  the  corner.  As  they  said 
good-night,  Dr.  North,  the  undemonstrative,  held  out 
his  hand.  Harry  took  it,  and  got  a  good,  strong  grip. 
And  then  they  went  their  ways. 

To  the  little  argument  as  to  relations  and  events  al 
ready  working  in  Ulick  North's  sub-consciousness,  some 
thing  in  his  companion's  last  word  had  added  a  further 
subtle  touch  of  confirmation  —  not  assurance,  not  con 
viction  ;  why  should  he  care  for  either  ?  There  was 
time,  of  course,  for  anything  to  come  of  this  frank  inti- 


282  SQUARE  PEGS. 

macy ;  yet  somehow  it  was  comfortable  to  Dr.  North 
that  it  had  not  yet  come,  in  young,  hasty  fashion. 

Over  his  pipe  that  night  he  wondered  if  knowing  a 
person  all  one's  life  might  give  one,  after  all,  the  most 
discriminative  knowledge ;  if,  indeed,  it  might  not 
possibly  be  a  mere  childish  apprehension  of  each  other 
that  persons  so  knowing  would  carry  on  into  their  ma- 
turer  life ;  if  later  friendships  might  not  reach  farther 
down,  strike  deeper  root. 

Then  he  did,  at  last,  rousing  himself,  begin  to  won 
der  at  his  own  wonder.  Of  what  interest  was  all  this 
to  him  ?  Why  did  he  care  to  understand  what  sort  of 
understanding  Harry  Henslee  might  have  of  Estabel 
Charlock,  the  girl  whom  he  had  known  all  his  life  ? 
Why  did  he  care  to  guess  what  this  girl  would  do,  or  be, 
or  come  to,  next,  in  the  years  that  hurry  a  girl  forward 
so  fast  into  a  woman  ?  What  would  it  ever  be  to  him 
whether  the  world  got  her,  or  she  got  loose  from  the 
world  ? 

Still,  in  this  introspection,  he  did  not  more  than  half 
discover  himself,  even  to  the  consciousness  that  it  was 
really  his  own  case  he  was  watching,  on  the  careful, 
passive,  "expectant  "  system.  He  thought  that  he  was 
dismissing  the  matter. 

He  made  the  discovery  that  his  pipe  was  finished, 
shook  the  ashes  out  with  a  particular  deliberation,  and 
went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE    RELIGION    OP  BUSINESS. 

MR.  CLYMER  had  a  real  respect  for  his  nephew. 
Cranky  as  the  latter's  opinions  often  seemed  to  him  to 
be,  he  could  not  quite  shake  off  the  effect  they  had 
upon  him.  Perhaps  when  they  were  not  expressed,  the 
influence  of  their  withholding  was  the  stronger.  He 
knew  very  well  that  there  could  be  very  few  things  con 
cerning  which  Ulick  North  had  not  opinions ;  and  he 
felt  that  silence  was  sometimes  the  keenest  criticism. 

Mr.  Clymer  was  very  apt  to  try  himself  on  with 
Ulick.  The  result  of  this  was  very  apt  to  be  an  in 
creased  complication  in  his  peculiarly  mixed  regard  for 
the  young  man.  Arguing  with  him  was  often  like  argu 
ing  with  his  own  better  self;  and  while  a  man  respects 
the  best  of  himself  and  cannot  be  comfortable  until  he 
wins  it  over,  he  may  be  impatient  enough  with  it  at 
times  to  wish  that  he  could  order  it  out  of  his  house. 
There  was  therefore  danger,  when  this  better  self  was 
represented  objectively,  that  a  crisis  of  such  nature 
might,  to  greater  or  less  extent,  arise.  Mr.  Clymer 
did  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  his  nephew,  but  it  fre 
quently  happened  that  their  relations  of  the  moment 
were  slightly  strained. 

The  only  part  that  Dr.  North  had  taken  in  the  little 
colloquy  of  the  other  evening  —  except  for  his  amused 
allusion  to  the  small  boy's  appetite  for  fire,  and  his 
brief,  significant  commentary  upon  the  definition  of  the 
preferred  creditor  —  had  been  to  listen  and  laugh.  But 
while  his  eyes  had  been  brimful  of  fun  at  the  encounter 


284  SQUARE  PEGS. 

of  shrewd  worldly  wisdom  with  young,  honest,  quick 
witted  ignorance,  they  had  held  a  certain  keen  search- 
ingness,  as  of  a  judge  who  watches  from  the  bench  a 
cross-examination.  Mr.  Clymer  wondered  what  his 
rulings  would  have  been. 

So  when  Ulick  found  him  alone  a  few  evenings  later, 
the  subject  was  revived. 

"That  matter  of  Chilstone  and  Marish  turns  out 
pretty  disastrously,"  Mr.  Clymer  remarked.  "Liabili 
ties  very  large,  and  scattered ;  assets  next  to  nothing, 
practically.  It  means  a  good  deal  of  trouble.  When 
sand  and  pebbles  begin  rolling  down-hill,  look  out  for 
a  landslide.  If  there  is  n't  a  considerable  business 
cave-in  coming,  I  'm  happily  mistaken." 

"I  hope  it  doesn't  touch  you,  sir,"  said  Dr.  North 
guardedly. 

"Not  directly.  No.  We  don't  hold  any  of  Chil 
stone  and  Marish's  paper.  I  've  been  shy  of  it  for  some 
time.  Steeples,  my  partner,  has  rather  a  weakness  for 
name  sometimes  —  WTest  End  name,  that  is.  But  I 
don't  recognize  any  West  End  in  business  quarters.  So 
we  're  pretty  cautious,  and  quick,  too,  in  shaky  times. 
Doesn't  do  to  stand  too  long  on  a  hummock  when 
you're  crossing  a  bog.  Jump  at  the  right  minute  — 
that 's  the  rule.  Turns  out  the  golden  rule  in  our  line 
of  march.  Shaky  times  are  good  enough  times,  if  you 
know  how  to  take  'em." 

Mr.  Clymer  smiled  at  himself  in  astute  content. 

Dr.  North  sat  gravely  listening. 

Some  one  else  heard  the  talk,  too,  in  fragments ;  not 
surreptitiously,  for  Mr.  Clymer  knew  that  Estabel  had 
taken  her  school  books  and  retreated  to  the  dining-room 
when  Dr.  North  came  in,  and  that  the  doors  were  open 
across  the  narrow  passage.  Besides,  this  kind  of  talk 
went  on  so  very  commonly ;  there  was  no  reserve  or 
secret  in  it.  It  did  not  even  begin  to  interest  her  at 
once.  She  was  deep  in  an  algebraic  equation. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  BUSINESS.  285 

u Business  assets,  as  I  said,  next  to  nothing  in  the 
case.  Big  failures  in  New  York  did  the  mischief. 
Lots  of  waste  paper." 

"Seems  to  be  a  kind  of  waste  paper  affair  all  round," 
said  the  doctor.  But  he  would  not  enlarge,  nor  pre 
cipitate  discussion. 

Mr.  Clymer's  smile  broke  into  a  laugh.  "That 
states  it,  exactly,"  he  said.  "And  nobody  much  hurt 
in  the  end,  perhaps." 

"Except,  I  suppose,  a  few  practical  people,  who 
don't  do  a  paper  business,  but  who  have  to  come  down 
with  the  slide.  Under  it,  I  guess,  when  it  settles." 

It  was  here  that  Estabel  began  really  to  listen.  Here 
was  something  that  concerned  life  directly,  as  her  par 
ticular  example  in  algebra  did  not. 

"Poor  devils,  yes.  Unless  they  've  known  enough 
to  hedge  a  bit.  It  's  hard  on  them,  but  can't  be 
helped.  The  slide,  as  you  say,  has  got  to  lodge  some 
where.  " 

"I  didn't  say  it  exactly  so.  But  it's  the  result, 
if  not  the  necessity.  It  appears  to  be  the  religion  of 
business."  Dr.  North  spoke  composedly,  but  his  eyes 
flashed.  Estabel  knew  they  would.  She  wished  she 
could  see  his  face. 

"If  you  like  to  call  it  so,  although  I  don't  see  the 
connection.  If  you  mean  the  inevitable  law,  why  not  ?  " 

"No  why.  It  has  always  been  the  inevitable  law  in 
the  business  of  religion.  And  it 's  a  poor  rule  that 
won't  work  both  ways."  Dr.  North's  cynical  tones 
enunciated  the  statement  most  succinctly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  came  with  irate 
quickness  from  Mr.  Clymer. 

"I  mean  what  the  churches  have  been  teaching  for 
three  hundred  years  —  the  doctrine  of  human  failure, 
and  of  turning  off  the  loss  on  some  one  else,  and  walk 
ing  away  free." 

This  was  attacking  Mr.  Abel  Clymer  on  both  flanks. 


286  SQUARE  PEGS. 

He  was  a  firm  upholder  of  the  church,  and  said  his 
prayers  every  Sunday  at  the  Chapel  of  the  Beatitudes ; 
a  Low  Church  compromise  hetween  the  Puritan  ortho 
doxy  in  which  he  had  been  brought  up  and  the  ritualis 
tic  order  of  observance  which  Mrs.  Clymer  preferred, 
perhaps  as  a  convenient  ready-made  garment  involving 
less  trouble  of  personal  fitting.  Immaculate  in  holy- 
day  appointment,  from  shaven  chin  to  shining  boots, 
from  tip  to  tip  an  unimpeachable  Christian  gentleman, 
he  filled  his  place  in  his  broad-aisle  pew  as  he  did  his 
chair  in  his  counting  house  on  other  days,  with  an  im 
portance  and  a  dignity;  and  as  duly  transferred  from 
his  vest  pocket  to  the  offertory  plate  a  golden  coin  in 
payment  of  tax  to  the  revenue  of  the  Kingdom,  as  he 
passed  his  worldly  gains  to  the  right  entry  in  his  busi 
ness  ledgers,  and  with  much  the  same  motive  in  careful 
calculation;  to  look  out  for  himself  in  a  shaky  world, 
and  to  cross  the  bog  on  safe  hummocks. 

He  was  as  confident  of  his  position  and  principle  in 
the  one  relation  as  in  the  other.  Both  wrere  sacred  to 
him ;  fixed,  and  set  apart,  and  not  to  be  doubted  or 
profaned.  The  unexpected  assault  astounded  him. 

"If  you  scoff  at  Christ's  salvation!"  he  broke  out, 
and  could  no  further. 

"I  don't.  Any  more  than  I  should  scoff  at  you,  if 
you  came  forward  now  to  some  poor  fellow  under  the 
drift  with  help  to  right  himself.  I  can  understand  the 
gospel,  so  far ;  but  I  cannot  understand  the  thing  that 
has  been  made  of  it,  any  more  than  I  can  understand 
the  technical  turns  and  squirms  of  debit  and  credit." 

This  brought  it  back.  Mr.  Clymer  had  no  mind  to 
pursue  a  theological  disputation ;  he  was  not  in  armor 
nor  in  mood  for  it.  It  was  a  week-day  with  him,  and 
this  was  week-day  talk.  But  the  acrimony  of  a  reli 
gious  resentment  intensified  his  practical  dogmatism, 
and  he  was  sore  with  personal  offense.  He  had  not  set 
out  for  all  this,  but  he  was  in  for  it  now.  He  might 


THE  RELIGION  OF  BUSINESS.  287 

as  well  understand  things,  once  for  all,  with  Ulick 
North. 

"What  technical  squirms?  "  he  demanded.  "A  man 
in  honorable  business  does  n't  like  insinuations  of 
squirms." 

"It  isn't  a  pretty  word;  but  you  spoke  of  'hedg 
ing.  ' " 

"Looking  out  both  ways;  yes.  That's  fair  in  all 
tactics.  One  must  provide  for  retreat,  as  well  as  for 
advance.  I  suppose  you  mean  something  like  what  was 
spoken  of  the  other  night.  I  don't  imagine  you  are  as 
uncomprehending  as  that  child." 

That  child  was  leaning  forward  now,  and  listening 
with  all  her  might  —  not  to  hear  of  herself ;  that  passed 
her  as  of  no  concern;  but  to  hear  what  Ulick  North 
would  say  of  truth  and  falsehood  in  these  things  of 
which  she  was  so  uncomprehending. 

"I  don't  see  any  way  of  getting  round  a  debt  but 
by  paying  it,  if  that  is  uncomprehending, "  she  heard 
Dr.  North  reply. 

"Well,  that  's  gospel.  That  's  Calvinism.  And 
you  don't  like  Calvinism." 

"It  strikes  me  that  's  another  side  of  the  subject, 
and  that  there  may  be  a  question  between  gospel  and 
Calvinism.  But  allowing  that  theory,  it  only  clinches 
the  argument.  Somebody  must  pay.  A  debt  is  a  debt, 
and  must  either  be  discharged,  or  absolutely  forgiven 
by  the  party  holding  claim." 

"Well.      Which  thing  are  you  talking  about?  " 

"Both,  so  far.  My  gospel  —  if  I  were  sure  of  it  — 
would  be  absolute  forgiveness.  In  spiritual  matters  I 
should  take  the  word  to  mean  its  whole  meaning  — • 
something  more  than  flat  canceling ;  a  giving-for  the 
payment.  A  free  bestowal  of  the  wherewithal  to  re 
deem  the  debt.  But  I  am  no  polemic.  I  think  a 
worldly  obligation  —  an  honest  one  —  holds,  clear 
through.  A  man's  money  can't  be  shuffled  out  of 


288  SQUARE  PEGS. 

sight,  or  transferred,  and  really  cease  to  be  liable. 
The  transfer  would  be  only  a  shifting  of  responsibility." 

"Then  I  couldn't  give  away  anything  as  I  went 
along  without  involving  the  person  receiving  it  to  that 
extent,  if  I  failed  ever  after  to  take  up  a  business  note. 
Trash !  " 

"You  can  make  trash  out  of  anything.  There  is  no 
thing  true  that  cannot  be  pushed  to  a  form  of  absurdity. 
The  whole  thing  lies  in  a  clear,  upright  consciousness. 
I  would  n't  expect  a  woman  whom  I  could  '  honor  '  — 
that 's  in  the  marriage  contract,  too,  or  ought  to  be 
on  both  sides  —  to  keep  possession  of  anything  that  I 
should  slip  into  her  pocket  because  I  wasn't  sure  it 
might  rightfully  belong  in  mine." 

"I  don't  see  where  you  would  stop,  with  your  high 
morals."  Mr.  Clymer's  voice  rose,  irritatedly,  a  tone 
or  two  in  spite  of  an  habitual  control.  "A  debt  is  a 
duty,  and  a  duty  is  a  due.  Perhaps  you  would  have 
a  wife  —  or  a  widow  —  or  an  inheritor  —  hunt  up  all 
they  might  think  a  man  ought  to  have  done  with  his 
money,  and  pay  it  out  for  him  in  settlement  of  his 
estate,  before  accepting  their  own  rights  —  a  dower,  or 
a  legacy,  or  a  residue  at  law  ?  " 

Mr.  Clymer  thought  he  had  shown  an  absurdity  yet 
more  far  reaching  and  conclusive,  to  which  such  notions 
as  Ulick  North's  might  logically  lead.  Perhaps^  he 
thought  he  was  bringing  the  argument  home,  in  some 
remote,  suggested  contingency,  to  the  man. 

"One  wouldn't  like  to  have  the  burden  laid  upon 
him  of  proof-reading  the  whole  record  of  a  man's  life," 
Ulick  replied,  in  a  tone  indicative  of  the  sort  of  smile 
that  might  accompany  a  courteously  ambiguous  answer, 
as  of  one  who  would  turn  off  a  troublesome  subject  as 
little  offensively  as  possible.  There  was  also  a  move 
ment  as  if  he  rose  to  go. 

Mr.  Clymer  got  up  too.  Estabel  heard  his  heavy 
chair  pushed  back.  But  he  would  not  let  Ulick  off 


THE  RELIGION  OF  BUSINESS.  289 

without  another  thrust.      It  seemed  as  if  he  meant  to 
drive  him  to  the  wall. 

"Perhaps  you  wouldn't  be  in  favor  of  his  having  any 
property  to  leave,"  he  said  sardonically. 

"Perhaps,"  Ulick  returned  quietly,  "there  wouldn't 
be  so  much  property  amassed,  or  so  many  consciences 
involved,  or  so  many  contrasts  in  human  condition,  if 
every  man  held  a  duty  as  a  debt,  from  day  to  day,  and 
from  dollar  to  dollar." 

"I  'm  glad  to  know  your  opinions,"  Mr.  Clymer  an 
swered,  with  a  strongly  constrained  utterance  which 
Estabel  knew  to  be  her  uncle's  when  he  was  very  angry. 
"They  are  not  mine.  They  are  the  notions  of  a  set  of 
communist  fanatics.  But  I  shall  not  quarrel  with  you. 
I  don't  quarrel.  I  modify  my  estimates,  however  — 
and  consequently,  sometimes,  my  course  of  action. 
Good-night." 

And  he  sat  down  again,  wheeling  about  evidently, 
from  the  sound  of  creaking  casters,  so  as  to  turn  his 
back  upon  the  door  through  which  Dr.  North  was  de 
parting. 

"Perhaps  I  did  wrong,"  Estabel  was  saying  to  her 
self.  "But  I  couldn't  help  it,  very  well.  And  — 
oh !  was  n't  he  brave  ?  " 

She  might  have  slipped  away  then,  through  the  farther 
door  and  passage,  and  left  no  trace  of  her  having  been 
within  hearing.  But  with  a  bravery  of  her  own  she  sat 
still.  What  she  had  done  she  would  not  conceal. 

The  algebraic  equation,  however,  would  not  work 
itself  through  her  brain.  And  presently  she  heard  her 
uncle  go  off  to  his  room,  up  the  front  staircase,  speak 
ing  to  Archibald  as  he  went,  and  ordering  him,  curtly, 
to  chain-bolt  the  door  and  put  out  the  lights.  He  had 
forgotten  to  come  into  the  dining-room  for  his  usual 
glass  of  water. 

A  bell  rang  from  above  a  minute  after,  and  Archi 
bald  appeared  to  fetch  it. 


290  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"  Good-night,  Archibald, "  the  girl  said,  meeting  him 
in  the  doorway  with  a  pile  of  books  upon  her  arm. 
There  was  such  a  bright,  sweet,  happy  ring  in  her  voice 
that  the  man's  "Good-night,  miss,"  took  a  responsive 
cheeriness,  and  he  added  to  himself,  as  he  filled  a  little 
pitcher  from  the  great  ice-urn,  "'T  ain't  her,  then. 
She  ain't  in  it.  So  fur,  so  good;  but  the  old  man's 
riled  at  something,  no  mistake." 

When  Archibald  was  on  duty  he  was  very  often  on 
phraseological  stilts;  in  his  private  cogitations  he 
dropped  to  an  easy,  natural  level.  One  may  be  a  very 
fair  French  or  German  or  Latin  scholar,  and  yet  not 
have  arrived  at  thinking  in  French,  German,  or  Latin. 

When  Ulick  North  returned  to  his  office  after  his 
morning  round  next  day,  he  found  upon  his  table  a 
square  blue  envelope.  Within  was  a  note  of  telegraphic 
brevity,  and  a  bank  check.  The  note  said :  — 

"Please  find  enclosed  check  for  one  hundred  dollars, 
for  professional  services,  and  return  receipt  for  the 
same.  Yours  truly,  ABEL  CLYMEB." 

This  was  dismissal,  and,  as  Ulick  North  felt  it,  in 
sult.  Professionally,  he  had  visited  his  uncle  a  dozen 
times  or  more  during  his  recent  disability. 

Within  the  hour  an  answer  reached  Mr.  Clymer's 
office. 

"Please  find  enclosed  my  bill  for  medical  attendance, 
with  check  returned,  as.  drawn  under  evident  mistake. 
Yours  truly,  ULICK  NORTH." 

The  bill  was  for  fifteen  visits,  thirty  dollars. 

Ulick  had  taken  his  new  attitude  in  the  circum 
stances  as  positively  and  unhesitatingly  as  Mr.  Clymer 
had  attempted  to  take  his. 


THE  RELIGION  OF  BUSINESS.  291 

The  specific  charge  was  paid  with  a  fresh  check,  the 
receipted  bill  sent  back  in  due  order,  each  with  instant 
promptness,  and  no  further  word  was  exchanged.  The 
formality  was  as  final  as  the  demanding  and  receiving 
of  passports  by  an  ambassador  of  state. 

Heretofore  there  had  been  no  bill  rendering,  no  re 
ceipts  ;  the  services  had  been  given  uncalculatingly,  the 
occasional  money  acknowledgment  offered  and  received 
with  friendly  generosity  and  frankness,  as  from  kinsman 
to  kinsman,  each  understanding  and  appreciating  a  good 
will  apart  from  pay.  This  sudden  assumption  of  busi 
ness  relations  meant  abandonment,  at  least  for  the  time, 
of  any  other. 

Ulick  North  felt  the  Mount  Street  door  closed  against 
him,  and  the  next  time  Mr.  Clymer  wanted  advice  he 
sent  for  Dr.  Keaton. 

Nevertheless,  in  the  midst  of  his  resentment,  he  felt 
an  involuntary  added  respect  for  the  young  man,  with 
whose  pride  if  not  his  principles  he  could  sympathize. 
The  sting  was  that  this  increase  of  estimation  had  to  be 
precisely  the  deduction  from  his  own  self-respect. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

SEEING   THROUGH. 

IT  is  curiously  remarkable  how  minor  events  swell 
the  current  of  reason  and  determination  when  a  strong 
wish  first  impels  it.  Every  little  wind  blows  the  same 
way.  There  is  an  easy  trend,  by  repeated  slight  in 
clines  in  the  lay  of  the  land,  toward  the  object.  All 
streams  run  to  the  sea,  as  all  roads  lead  toward  Rome. 

Mrs.  Clymer  wanted  to  break  up  her  establishment 
in  Mount  Street  and  go  again  to  Europe.  Her  estab 
lishment  began  to  break  up  of  its  own  accord. 

First,  Sara  Sullivant  was  sent  for  from  Mullichunk, 
in  a  remote  district  of  Maine.  An  aunt  had  lately 
died  there,  leaving  a  paralytic  husband.  Sara  was 
wanted  to  come  and  take  the  charge  that  nobody  else 
seemed  free  to  take. 

"I  expected  it.      It 's  never  long  between,"  she  said. 

"Between  what?  "  asked  her  mistress. 

"Between  the  seeings  through." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"There  's  always  somebody  to  be  watched  off.  I  've 
had  it  to  do  most  of  the  time  ever  since  I  was  grown 
up.  First,  it  was  mother.  She  was  sick  four  years. 
And  then  father  hurt  his  hip,  and  he  gave  out.  I 
tended  on  him,  and  done  everything  else,  till  he  died. 
After  that  I  went  into  the  mills  a  spell.  But  'twa'n't 
a  great  while  before  iny  cousin,  that  married  the  man 
that  wanted  me  once,  was  left,  and  went  weak  in  her 
mind  —  weaker,  I  should  say  —  and  sent  for  me ;  so  I 
had  to  go  there,  and  never  got  away  till  after  she  died, 


SEEING  THROUGH.  293 

poor  thing!  And  that  led  up,  finally,  to  my  bein' 
wanted  for  her  mother.  They  all  depended  on  me  to 
see  'em  through.  There  never  seemed  to  be  anybody 
else.  Other  folks  —  well,  they  were  pinned  down, 
some  oneway  and  some  another;  and  nobody's  stakes 
could  be  pulled  up  but  mine.  Now,  I  've  got  to  go  to 
Mullichunk." 

"But  certainly  you  've  done  your  part.  Why  don't 
you  say  so  ?  " 

"No  use  to  hang  back.  It 's  some  folks'  part  to  do 
the  whole  of  some  things.  'T  is  as  'tis,  and  it  can't 
be  no  'tiser,  as  Uncle  Zim  used  to  say  himself,  when 
he  was  layin'  down  the  law." 

"It  mayn't  be  long,"  suggested  Mrs.  Clymer  re 
motely. 

"That's  what  they  all  say  to  encourage  me.  Of 
course,  they  can't  any  of  'em  last  forever.  But  one 
day  does  n't  last  forever,  an'  yet  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  days,  one  after  another,  last  a  year.  And 
then  the  year  begins  right  over  again." 

"People  can't,"  said  Estabel  a  little  obtusely. 

"No.  Not  the  same  ones.  But  there  's  always 
somebody.  And  I  'm  passed  round.  Anybody  's  liable 
to  be,  I  guess,  that  once  gets  started." 

So  with  cheerful  energy  that  belied  her  blunt  protest, 
Sara  Sullivant  began  to  pack  her  trunk.  Estabel  told 
her  privately  that  she  believed  it  suited  her  best  to  do 
what  nobody  else  would  do,  and  that  she  was  really  not 
a  bit  sorry  to  go. 

"You  're  pretty  sharp,  but  you  're  mistaken  right 
exactly  there, "  the  good  woman  replied,  with  her  head 
under  the  trunk-lid,  holding  it  up.  "It 's  the  goin'  I 
am  sorry  for." 

She  went  on  prodding  and  punching  her  close  be 
stowals,  and  did  not  add  any  word  for  a  minute  or  two. 
If  a  tear  came,  she  dropped  it  there  and  then,  and 
packed  it  in  among  her  stockings.  But  she  lifted  her 


294  SQUARE  PEGS. 

head  bravely  when  she  did  emerge,  and  said,  "I  sha'n't 
be  sorry  for  the  gittin'  there.  I  'm  needed,  an'  that  's 
enough.  And  I  like  both  hands  full.  Too,  I  '11  have 
'em.  For  if  Uncle  Zimri  's  anything,  he  's  pernickity." 
.  Estabel  fell  back  upon  the  stereotyped  consolation. 

"It  will  have  to  come  to  an  end,  and  then,  maybe 
you  '11  — but  where  shall  ive  all  be?  " 

"That  's  it,"  said  Sara.  "That  's  always  it.  Things 
go  on,  and  go  off,  and  you  never  can  catch  hold  where 
you  let  go.  An'  snappin'  turtles  live  a  thousand  years, 
they  say." 

Mr.  Clymer  did  not  enter  into  his  wife's  dismay  at 
losing  Sara.  "There  are  plenty  of  women  to  be  had," 
he  said. 

"That's  what  a  man  thinks.  I  suppose,"  retorted 
Mrs.  Clymer,  "whether  it  's  a  housemaid  or  a  wife." 
Mr.  Clymer  laughed. 

But  his  turn  came  when  Archibald  announced  to  him 
that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  get  married,  and  set  up 
in  a  little  business,  with  a  wife  to  help  him  who  knew 
the  ropes.  "A  stylish  little  restyouraunt, "  he  said. 

Mr.  Clymer  laughed.  "Pooh,  pooh!  Better  think 
twice.  Might  rest  your  aunt,  but  won't  rest  you,  nor 
your  wife.  Better  off  where  you  are,  and  she  wherever 
she  is." 

"That  ain't  the  way  it  looks  to  us.  We  have 
thought  twice  —  once  apiece  —  and  we're  both  agreed. 
But  we  won't  be  in  a  hurry  —  not  unreasonably.  The 
spring  '11  do.  I  've  had  a  good  place  here,  and  I  won't 
leave  you  in  any  lurch.  That  's  why  I  spoke  now." 

"Very  well.  We  '11  let  it  rest,  then.  You  may 
think  better  of  it,  after  all,"  he  repeated. 

"Guess  not,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "Couldn't  think 
better  of  it  than  I  do  now  —  no  way. " 

After  that,  Mr.  Clymer  began  to  admit  to  himself 
that  things  were  unsettling,  and  that  new  arrangements 
might  come  about. 


SEEING  THROUGH.  295 

Sara  Sullivant  was  persuaded  to  wait  for  another 
letter  and  consider  whether  she  also  might  not  stay  till 
spring. 

"He  's  got  a  sister,  Uncle  Zimri  has,"  she  admitted; 
"and  she  ain't  got  any  children.  She  's  doin'  for  him 
now  —  it's  she  that's  sendin'  after  me  —  an'  if  I'd 
broke  my  neck,  or  got  married  myself,  she  'd  have  had 
to  keep  on  doin'.  Good  mind  to  pretend  I  have." 

"Which?"  Estabel  asked  gleefully,  delighted  at  the 
possible  reprieve. 

"Well,  either  —  both.  Don't  much  signify,  I 
guess." 

So  the  partly  packed  trunk  was  shut  up,  and  Sara 
stayed  on,  more  for  the  persuasive  pleasure  in  Estabel 's 
eyes  than  for  her  mistress's  remonstrance  or  proffer  of 
increased  wages. 

"It'll  be  full  as  satisfactory  to  see  you  through, 
first, "  she  said  to  Estabel  upstairs. 

"Oh,  Sara!" 

"Well,  you  know  what  I  mean.  And  come  to  think, 
it  is  seein'  through,  every  time  you  end  up  anything. 
Every  piece  of  livin'  is  a  life;  an'  maybe  the'  ain't  so 
much  differ 'nee  in  the  endin's  as  we  're  apt  to  conject." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

WEST    GARDENS    AND    SHAWME    STREET. 

WEST  GARDENS  was  built  up. 

On  the  time  contracts,  labor  had  been  pushed.  Or 
ganization  and  executive  management  had  been  admi 
rable.  Not  an  hour  had  been  lost. 

The  last  workman  had  gone  off  with  his  kit  of  tools. 
The  last  dray  had  carted  from  the  premises  ladders, 
scaffoldings,  remnants,  rubbish.  The  sanded  sidewalks, 
broad  and  even,  swept  around  the  ample  curve.  Even 
gardeners  had  done  their  work,  and  behind  the  gilt- 
tipped  iron  rails  that  shielded  the  little  grassplots  in 
the  intervals  between  the  outside  flights  of  brownstone 
steps,  the  sods  were  green,  and  in  narrow  beds  along  the 
basements,  far  enough  back  to  be  safe  from  marauding 
reach,  bulbs  of  tulip  and  of  crocus  were  sending  up  green 
blades,  low  blooming  flowers,  and  budding  stems.  Along 
the  stonework,  and  clasping  with  venturing  rootlets  the 
bricked  walls,  were  already  visible  the  beginnings  of 
beautiful  vine  tapestry,  the  first  stitches,  as  it  were,  of  an 
embroidery  that  should  by  and  by  cover  the  fronts  with 
draperies  of  alternating  verdure  and  resplendent  color. 

A  number  of  the  dwellings  were  already  occupied, 
and  the  graceful  balconies  of  iron  tracery,  touched  and 
tipped  with  gilding  like  the  rails  below,  were  being 
filled  with  potted  plants  in  flower.  West  Gardens 
people  were  beginning  on  the  determination  to  live  up 
to  the  name  of  their  demesne.  It  was  springtime  in 
the  city,  and  things  were  fresh,  and  dwellings  old  and 
new  looked  open,  bright,  and  garnished. 


WEST  GARDENS  AND   SHAWME   STREET.     297 

Down  in  Shawme  Street  little  gardens,  running  to 
the  river,  were  taking  on  their  greenness,  and  their  lilac 
bushes  and  peony  clumps  were  in  the  bud,  and  the  lilies 
of  the  valley,  in  sheltered  southward  nooks,  were  un 
folding  some  of  their  white  bells.  The  river  shone  in 
the  sun,  the  air  blew  sweet  from  the  westward  across 
the  broad,  calm  water,  and  in  at  the  house  windows 
gladly  flung  awide.  But  in  one  house  —  our  one  house 
there  —  was  trouble. 

David  Hawtree  lay  ill  and  prostrate,  broken  down 
with  the  strain  and  tension  of  his  winter's  overwork 
and  his  pressing  anxieties.  Only  himself  knew  all 
about  it,  but  the  grandmother  and  the  young  daughter 
knew  very  well  that  he  had  "done  too  much,"  and  that 
the  hard  undertaking  entered  upon  bravely  and  hope 
fully  a  year  ago  had  been  at  best  but  an  unpaying  labor, 
and  so  had  "  taken  out  of  him  "  proportionally  to  what 
it  had  failed  to  give.  They  had  seen  how  in  all  these 
last  months  strength  had  been  lessening,  and  a  cloud  of 
perplexity  and  discouragement  had  been  settling  down 
upon  countenance  and  manner,  showing  itself  in  the 
wan  look  of  mornings,  that  betrayed  sleepless  nights, 
and  in  brief  unenjoyed  partaking  of  daily  meals.  At 
last,  with  some  slight  provoking  incidental  cause,  posi 
tive  disease  had  fastened  its  grasp  upon  him  and  laid 
him  low.  For  this  is  what  it  does  —  the  manifest 
thing  that  we  call  an  attack  of  illness :  it  seizes  upon 
that  which  is  made  ready  for  it  by  the  undermining  of 
natural  power  and  healthy  resistance,  and  by  its  cruel 
hold  drags  deathward.  In  later  days  we  have  called  it 
"  Srip'  "  n°t  realizing  our  own  instinctive  discrimination, 
nor  how  literal  and  explicit  the  word  is. 

The  three  houses  for  which  David  Hawtree  had  taken 
the  carpentry  contracts  were  really  built  out  of  his  life. 
Early  and  late,  in  positive  labor  and  unceasing  responsi 
ble  watchfulness,  the  work  had  taxed  him  to  the  ut 
most.  Added  to  this,  courage  and  incentive  had  given 


298  SQUARE  PEGS. 

place,  first  to  doubt,  and  then  to  a  distastrous  certainty 
that  the  agreement  in  which  he  was  bound  was  proving 
for  him  a  losing  one.  Brace  and  Buckle  had  made 
theirs,  which  included  all  lesser  bargains,  at  the  lowest 
possible  calculation.  They  knew  it  was  a  risk ;  but 
even  if  they  only  came  out  of  this  "by  the  skin  of  their 
teeth, "  it  would  open  the  way,  as  was  already  indicated, 
to  their  opportunity  in  other  more  lucrative  engage 
ments  in  which  they  could  insist  upon  better  conditions. 
Or,  if  very  worst  came,  there  was  a  way  out  —  for  them. 
Nobody  could  blame  them  for  not  accomplishing  impos 
sibilities  ;  there  were  a  hundred  circumstances  always  to 
adduce :  times,  prices,  delays  and  accidents  of  weather, 
a  bad  business  and  atmospheric  season,  through  all  of 
which  hindrance  they  had  redeemed  their  original 
pledges ;  the  evidence  of  which,  as  of  probity  and  abil 
ity,  and  also  for  justification  in  closer  future  reckon 
ings,  would  stand.  Meanwhile,  they  took  the  skin  off 
smaller  men's  teeth,  and  were  leaving  consequences  to 
drop  wherever  they  might  finally  alight. 

Mr.  Hawtree,  and  others  like  him,  had  found  it  diffi 
cult  to  get  money  in  advance  to  pay  off  journeymen. 
Brace  and  Buckle  "did  not  get  their  money  in  ad 
vance,"  they  said.  "It  was  n't  a  kind  of  thing  to  go 
into  without  capital."  "We  '11  give  you  our  notes  for 
six  months  each,  on  interest,"  they  told  him,  and  with 
that  he  had  to  be  satisfied.  But  upon  the  second  six- 
months  notes  he  had  failed  to  raise  ready  money;  he 
could  not  get  a  sufficiently  strong  indorser ;  the  business 
season  was  really  a  shaky  one ;  there  were  preliminary 
thrills  of  earthquake ;  the  brokers  would  not  discount 
reasonably.  Clymer  and  Steeples  themselves  virtually 
refused.  Hawtree  had  to  hold  the  paper  in  the  hope 
of  ultimate  payment. 

So  he  sold  out  snug  investments,  that  neither  work 
men  nor  work  might  suffer ;  when  that  was  not  enough, 
he  mortgaged  his  house,  and  another  that  he  had  built 


WEST  GARDENS   AND   SHAWME   STREET.     299 

and  leased ;  and  at  last,  seeing  what  might  come  to  be 
the  final  result,  and  feeling  in  himself  the  threatening 
of  what  did  come  in  bodily  condition,  he  made  over  his 
life  insurance  policy  to  the  benefit  of  his  friend,  R. 
Thistlestoke,  whose  lumber,  on  his  credit,  had  gone  into 
the  elegant,  thorough-built  structures  of  the  new  resi 
dential  centre. 

And  now  he  lay,  waiting  the  end. 

"Poor  little  Lilian!  Poor  little  Lilian!"  he  would 
say  in  low  breaths  of  half- wandering  speech.  "I  've 
done  so  badly  for  my  little  girl.  But  I  've  tried  — 
I  've  tried  —  to  do  my  best.  And  I  'm  going  to  die 
an  honest  man.  God  knows ;  I  've  got  to  leave  it  with 
Him  now.  He  takes  up  the  things  we  have  to  drop." 

And  then,  presently,  he  would  turn  his  head  feebly, 
and,  clinging  still  to  life  and  to  what  might  possibly  re 
vive  it,  would  whisper,  "Tonic  —  tonic!  "  and  open  his 
lips  for  the  teaspoonful  that  would  be  brought. 

Estabel  had  established  the  habit  of  going  to  see 
Lilian  and  the  dear  Gladmother  on  Sunday  afternoons. 
Sunday  drew  her  especially ;  for  the  day  was  in  tuna 
with  the  visit.  The  Gladmother 's  room  was  like  a 
church;  she  always  got  there  what  Sunday  ought  to 
bring.  It  made  up,  perhaps,  for  some  lack  elsewhere. 
Also,  it  was  almost  her  only  free  time  from  lessons  and 
other  requirements ;  Aunt  Vera  took  her  weekly,  quiet 
nap ;  other  days  she  had  to  go  out,  or  to  be  ready 
dressed  at  home  for  company;  Sunday  she  had  stillness, 
freedom,  and  wrapper  comfort.  Mr.  Clymer  was  al 
ways  busy  in  his  little  private  room ;  some  little  sheep 
were  invariably  in  the  pit  on  the  Sabbath  day,  conven 
iently  and  comfortably  impounded  there  for  the  leisurely 
rescue. 

Perhaps  this  custom  of  Estabel' s  had  not  taken  inva 
riable  form  until  after  the  break  in  Dr.  North's  visits, 
which  had  often  been  in  the  interval  between  afternoon 


300  SQUARE  PEGS. 

service  and  early  tea,  to  which  he  was  apt  to  stay. 
Estabel  missed  these  weekly  episodes  and  their  pleasant 
anticipation. 

It  was  on  a  Sunday  afternoon,  therefore,  that  Lilian, 
having  watched  her  coming,  met  her  noiselessly  at  the 
garden  door.  "I  cannot  ask  you  in,  dear,"  she  said. 
"I  just  came  down  to  kiss  you.  Father  is  very  ill." 

"Oh,  Lil!  I  won't  keep  you  a  minute.  But  what 
is  it  ?  " 

"It  began  with  influenza.  Almost  everybody  has  had 
that.  We  did  n't  think  of  being  anxious  about  it.  But 
now  it  is  pneumonia,  and  the  doctor  is  afraid  typhoid." 

"Oh,  Lil!"  Estabel  said  again,  and  put  her  arms 
around  the  girl  with  a  strong  clasp,  as  if  she  would  hold 
her  away  from  her  trouble. 

"I  must  come  again  and  ask.  But  not  to  hinder 
you,  or  anybody.  Could  n't  you  make  some  sign  for 
me?  Then  I  could  just  come,  and  look,  and  go  away." 

The  two  girls  agreed  that  if  Lilian  could  not  come 
down,  she  would  put  a  white  handkerchief  in  the  west 
front  window.  If  her  father  continued  about  the  same, 
it  should  be  in  the  middle  of  the  sash ;  should  he  be 
better,  it  should  hang,  more  or  less,  according  to  the 
circumstance,  to  the  inside  right.  Or  if  worse,  it 
should  be  moved  in  like  manner  to  the  left. 

"And  I  shall  tuck  a  bit  of  a  note  under  the  door 
sometimes,"  said  Estabel.  "Only  you  are  not  to  try 
to  answer  it." 

It  was  well  that  they  had  arranged  the  little  telegra 
phy,  for  when  Aunt  Vera  was  told  of  the  illness  she 
made  Estabel  change  all  her  clothing  and  take  a  bath; 
had  the  outer  garments  hung  out  upon  the  line,  and 
peremptorily  forbade  the  girl  to  go  to  the  house  again. 
It  was  only  after  a  promise  that  she  would  approach  no 
nearer  than  the  corner  from  which  she  could  perceive 
the  signal,  that  the  sentence  was  commuted  to  allow  so 
much  as  that. 


WEST  GARDENS  AND   SHAWME  STREET.    301 

"  All  those  things  are  horribly  contagious, "  declared 
Mrs.  Clymer. 

"Being  sorry  is  contagious,  too,"  said  Estabel. 
"And  all  those  things  are  everywhere.  I  might  walk 
another  way  and  get  something  worse.  But  of  course 
I  shall  do  as  you  tell  me." 

About  the  bit  of  a  note,  now  especially  necessary  to 
her  satisfaction,  she  quickly  devised  a  way  to  compass 
that.  Street  delivery  of  mail  was  not  yet  in  Top- 
thorpe.  She  wrote  a  tender  little  message  to  Lilian, 
explaining  all.  "But  I  can't  be  kept  away,"  she 
added.  "The  Gladmother  has  shown  us  the  way  round. 
In  the  inside  of  everything  I  shall  be  close  to  you. 
For  you  know  the  things  that  happen  to  you  are  as  if 
they  happened  to  me.  I  shall  be  thinking  to  you  — 
not  just  of  you.  —  all  the  time." 

She  put  the  note  into  another  envelope,  addressed  to 
Dr.  North,  with  a  line  asking  him  to  take  the  inclosure 
to  Lilian,  and  sent  Archibald  over  with  it  to  the  doc 
tor's  office. 

Ulick  North  sat  looking  at  the  girlish  but  firm  chiro- 
graphy  longer  than  needed  to  read  the  words.  It  was  the 
first  communication  he  had  received  from  Mount  Street 
since  what  he  had  regarded  as  his  expulsion.  He  won 
dered  just  what  inference  he  might  draw  now  from  this. 

Had  Estabel  not  missed  him?  Did  she  know  or  did 
she  not  know?  Did  this  say  to  him,  "I  am  where  I 
always  was.  I  understand  "  ?  Or  did  it  mean,  "I  am 
aware  of  nothing;  I  have  been  concerned  about  no 
thing  "  ?  The  simplicity,  the  directness,  were  them 
selves  a  puzzle.  Curiously,  it  is  so,  with  persons  who 
themselves  are  most  unflinchingly  direct.  Perhaps  be 
cause  the  smallest  word  or  act,  with  them,  is  never 
empty  of  a  meaning. 

Yet  why  should  this  girl  of  seventeen  have  a  mean 
ing,  to  be  significantly  direct  or  indirect  about  ?  And 
why  should  he  be  looking  for  such  a  meaning? 


302  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"  Life  is  full  of  symptoms,  to  a  doctor, "  he  said  to 
himself  derisively.  He  put  the  note  for  Lilian  in  his 
waistcoat  pocket.  The  other  he  restored  to  its  envelope 
and  dropped  into  a  side  drawer  of  his  open  office  desk. 
He  had  a  way  of  keeping  notes  and  letters  for  a  while. 
There  were  often  those  to  which  he  might  need  to  make 
some  reference.  Perhaps  he  disposed  of  this  mechani 
cally,  or  his  wastebasket  may  have  been  just  beyond  his 
reach. 

He  took  his  hat,  and  walked  down  Clover  Street  to 
see  his  patient. 

Day  after  day  Estabel  went  down  in  the  late  after 
noon  to  that  Clover  Street  corner  where  it  crossed 
Shawme,  from  which,  diagonally,  there  was  a  view  of 
the  Hawtrees'  windows. 

Day  after  day  the  white  handkerchief  hung  from  the 
middle  fastening.  "No  better,"  that  meant.  But  it 
meant,  certainly  also,  "no  worse."  Or  perhaps  Lilian 
shrank  from  confessing  that  it  was  by  any  different 
inference  equivalent  to  "not  as  well." 

"Oh,  I  know  she  will  hate  to  move  it,  the  least  bit, 
until  she  can  move  it  right, "  Estabel  would  say  to  her 
self  as  she  turned  sadly  away. 

But  by  and  by  it  did  move.  Just  a  little  aside,  to 
the  left.  The  next  day,  farther.  There  it  stayed,  be 
tween  the  two  side  panes  of  the  old-fashioned  glazing, 
for  three  days.  Then  it  crept  a  little  farther  yet.  Its 
white  folds  filled  the  last  pane.  The  last  was  drawing 
near. 

And  still  Estabel  could  not  go  to  them ;  could  do 
nothing;  and  there  was  no  word  to  say.  She  only 
knew  that  Lilian  and  the  Gladmother  would  know ; 
would  feel  her  thought.  Inside  —  knowing,  all  of 
them,  that  inside  way  —  they  were  face  to  face.  Better, 
they  were  heart  to  heart.  Written  word  would  even 
seem  to  displace  this. 

She  never  happened  to  see  Dr.  North.     He  was  there 


WEST  GARDENS  AND  SHAWME  STREET.    303 

at  morning,  noon,  and  night,  earlier  and  later,  but  not  at 
Estabel's  particular  hour.  Once  or  twice  she  had  the 
impulse  to  go  herself  to  Dr.  North's  office,  and  learn 
all.  But  something  withheld  her.  It  would  not  be 
quite  open  with  Aunt  Vera.  She  felt  sure  that  Uncle 
Clymer  would  not  like  it.  And  something  else  that 
she  did  not  try  to  define,  since  she  had  both  these  rea 
sons  already,  made  it  seem  impossible  to  her.  "Be 
sides,"  she  comforted  herself  somewhat  lamely  with 
concluding,  "doctors  never  do  tell  anything." 

It  was  on  a  Saturday  afternoon,  as  the  light  softened 
in  the  shaded  streets  and  shone  level  across  the  river, 
that  she  walked  with  look  bent  downward,  for  fear  of 
what  she  might  see  too  soon,  along  the  familiar  uneven 
old  brick  sideway  where  the  little  pools  left  by  the  brief 
shower  of  an  hour  before  lay  glistening,  and  stopped, 
still  delaying  the  glance  she  dreaded,  at  the  crossing. 

She  heard  the  closing  of  a  door,  and  lifted  her  head 
involuntarily.  At  the  same  moment  a  carriage  came 
down  Clover  Street,  and  turned  the  corner  at  which  she 
stood,  interposing  between  her  and  that  which  her  eyes 
sought.  But  they  waited,  fixed;  her  line  of  sight  was 
broken  only  as  a  ray  of  light  may  be.  It  fell  straight 
upon  its  point  when  the  way  was  open,  and  upon  no 
thing  else. 

The  white  signal  was  no  longer  there.  It  had  fin 
ished  its  slow  transit,  and  had  passed  aside.  Its  story 
was  all  told. 

In  its  place,  there  stood  upon  the  window  ledge  a 
tall,  clear  vase,  from  which  long  plumes  of  ferns  lifted 
themselves  delicately,  swept  right  and  left,  like  fair, 
green  wings,  across  the  panes,  and  then  bowed  tenderly 
downward,  dropping  oiit  of  sight. 

They  spoke  the  parable  of  the  invisible,  of  which 
their  fronds  and  seeding  are  mysterious  type.  They 
declared  also  the  new,  strong,  beautiful  life  which 
loosens  itself  upward  out  of  the  heavy,  hiding  mould, 


304  SQUAKE  PEGS. 

and  from  the  deep  roots  of  continual  being  unfolds  into 
an  upper  joy  and  an  endless  freedom,  from  whose 
blessed  franchise  it  finds  way  to  bend  and  touch  again, 
with  dear,  remembering  grace,  the  earth-spot  that  it 
grew  from. 

Estabel  knew  every  syllable  of  that  sweet  sign 
speech.  The  lovely  meanings  had  been  given  her  long 
ago.  She  stood  still,  gazing  with  wide  eyes,  from  which 
unheeded  tears  fell  gently,  upon  the  type  show  of  a 
wonderful  revelation,  not  of  death,  but  of  a  rising  from 
death.  She  hardly  knew  whether  it  were  the  pain  of 
a  sorrow  that  appealed  to  her  and  which  she  felt,  or 
that  of  an  exalted  joy. 

Her  hands,  which  she  had  clasped  together  in  sudden 
stress  of  emotion,  had  fallen  before  her,  still  joined ; 
her  whole  aspect  was  of  a  self-forgetting  in  a  sublimity 
that  announced  itself  —  that  can  only  announce  itself  — 
alongside  a  sentence  or  a  prophecy  that  must  mean  also 
suffering.  She  was  —  as  human  nature  at  its  highest 
and  deepest  —  in  the  presence  of  birth  or  the  presence 
of  that  which  is  both  death  and  birth  —  is  always ;  in 
the  attitude  of  Mary,  accepting  the  word  of  the  angel. 

It  was  only  for  a  moment,  though  the  moment  held 
so  much  of  life. 

She  knew,  with  secondary,  indifferent  perception, 
that  some  person  was  approaching  from  just  beyond  the 
narrow  crossing  beside  which  she  stood.  She  paid  no 
heed,  except  to  move  toward  the  curbstone,  that  the 
passer-by  might  take  the  inner  way.  Intent  upon  the 
reading  of  that  great,  grave  message  through  its  gentle 
symbolism,  she  was  aware  of  nothing  else  of  her  sur 
rounding.  The  whole  great  city  about  her  was  as  a 
blank,  a  silence. 

Dr.  North  came  close  beside  her,  and  spoke  her 
name,  holding  out  his  hand. 

Without  surprise,  without  other  movement,  she  lifted 
both  hers,  locked  as  they  were,  and  laid  them  upon  his. 


WEST  GARDENS  AND  SHAWME  STREET.    305 

Her  eyes  slowly  turned,  and  met  the  gentleness  of  his 
look  upon  her. 

"  Lilian  ?  "  The  name,  with  its  question,  came 
softly,  as  if  of  itself,  from  between  her  parted  but 
unmoving  lips. 

"She  is  asleep.  Everything  is  done,  and  she  is 
obeying  me.  He  died  at  noon  to-day.  She  asked  me 
to  let  you  know,  and  to  tell  you  that  by  and  by  — 
'  when  it  is  right, '  she  said,  and  you  can  come  —  she 
will  be  glad  of  you.  I  had  written  the  message  on  my 
card,  to  leave  in  Mount  Street.  Shall  I  walk  up  with 
you,  now?  We  had  better  not  stand  here." 

He  offered  her  his  arm.  "Thank  you;  I  don't  need 
that, "  she  said ;  and  turned  around  with  him,  retracing 
by  his  side  the  way  through  Shawine  Street. 

Going  up  the  steep  pitch  of  Mount  Street,  she  stopped 
suddenly.  He  held  out  his  arm  again,  and  looked  in  her 
face  with  a  quick  scrutiny.  She  answered  it  as  quickly. 

"I  am  all  right,"  she  said.  "But  I  must  ask  you 
something.  Why  did  he  have  to  die  ?  " 

She  put  the  question  as  if  she  really  thought  it  could 
be  answered. 

"  Because  it  has  to  come  to  us  all, "  the  doctor  re 
plied.  "When  one  has  lived  all  one  can  —  longer  or 
shorter  —  life  must  go. " 

"Why  couldn't  you  help  him?  " 

"The  help  was  all  the  other  way.  On  this  side  we 
can  only  help  what  is  tending  —  striving  —  toward  us ; 
coming  back.  When  it  begins  to  go  we  are  powerless." 

"  When  what  begins  to  go  ?  " 

"I  said.      What  we  call  life." 

"  It  only  began, "  said  Estabel,  repeating  what  she 
had  first  been  told,  "with  a  common  influenza.  Why 
couldn't  you  stop  that  —  there  —  then?"  She  de 
manded  it  almost  imperatively.  So  we  do  demand  of 
the  moment,  —  the  chance  that  we  think  has  been  in  the 
moment,  —  that  is  passed. 


306  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"It  began,"  said  Dr.  North,  stirred  to  sudden  un 
sparing  utterance,  "with  those  infernal  contracts; 
with  Brace  and  Buckle,  who  failed  a  month  ago. 
That  was  their  way  out  of  it.  They  are  alive  —  as 
they  count  living  —  and  he  is  dead.  It  was  those 
things  killed  him  —  the  unjust  bargainings,  by  which 
all  that  was  built." 

He  lifted  his  left  hand  and  swept  it  toward  West 
Gardens.  The  plate  glass  in  the  great  clear  windows 
of  the  tall  bowed  fronts  on  the '  upper  side  caught  the 
sunset  lights,  and  were  gorgeous  with  their  blazing  re 
flections  of  the  western  sky. 

From  the  street  up  to  the  dormer  windows,  every 
casement  showed  rich,  delicate,  or  simply  dainty  inner 
draperies,  —  of  costly  silk  in  luminous  colors,  of  frosty- 
patterned  lace,  of  pretty,  stainless  muslin  quaintly 
folded  back.  Innocently  splendid,  like  the  clouds  of 
heaven.  Sweet  with  orderly  comfort,  from  base  to 
roof.  Why  not  ? 

Estabel  looked,  and  clenched  her  teeth. 

Down  in  Shawme  Street  there  had  been  the  sorrow 
signal.  Tender  hands  had  placed  it  there,  a  reverent, 
loving  token  of  a  life  passed  on.  Hopeful,  acquiescent, 
even  with  a  holy  triumph  in  it,  but  a  thing  made  mani 
fest  in  tears,  against  deep  loss. 

The  way  of  life  is  yet,  to  the  earth  vision  inflexibly, 
the  way  of  death.  Suddenly  that  hard,  sad  side  —  not 
the  beautiful  and  heavenly  one  —  was  all  that  Estabel 
could  see.  Things  did  not  happen  rightly,  as  if  of 
God's  full  intent.  The  wrong  of  the  world  —  and  the 
death  in  the  world  —  these  crashed  together  and  re 
solved  themselves  into  the  terrible  unity  they  held  from 
the  day  of  the  sentence  in  Eden  to  the  Easter  Day  of 
a  new  Evangel  —  as  they  will  crash  together  still,  till 
the  world  learns  and  lives  in  all  the  power  of  the  Divine 
Resurrection  and  the  Endless  Life. 

Ulick  North  had  not  meant  to  say  it.      Neither  had 


WEST  GARDENS   AND   SHAWME   STREET.     307 

Estabel,  until  the  instant,  meant  to  ask  him  what  she 
did. 

"It  was  cruel  of  me  to  tell  you  that,"  he  said. 

"It  is  the  truth  of  it  that  is  cruel,"  she  answered 
him.  "Cruel!  Cruel!" 

She  repeated  the  words,  standing  where  she  had 
paused,  stamping  her  foot  unconsciously.  And  then  a 
kind  of  fury  of  pain,  of  accusal,  of  remorse  for  others, 
seized  her,  and  she  started  forward,  almost  rushing 
away  from  her  companion. 

A  carriage  came  down  the  hill,  and  drew  up  before 
the  Clymers'  door. 

"It  is  Aunt  Vera.  Good-by."  The  words  were 
shot  back  at  him  over  her  shoulder  as  she  hurried  on. 

She  sprang  up  the  steps,  and  rang  the  bell  violently 
while  the  carriage  door  was  being  opened,  and  Aunt 
Vera,  with  her  t  back  turned,  was  gathering  up  shawl 
and  cardcase  and  little  shopping  bundles. 

Dr.  North  would  not  have  avoided  the  encounter  if 
Estabel  had  allowed  him  to  continue  his  escort  natu 
rally  ;  he  was  not  at  all  afraid  of  meeting  Mrs.  Clymer. 
As  it  was,  he  hesitated  for  an  instant,  from  habitual 
impulse  of  courtesy,'  whether  to  advance  and  assist  the 
alighting  lady;  but  in  that  case  it  would  have  been 
awkward  for  her  not  to  invite  him  in,  and  as  Archibald 
quickly  appeared,  he  yielded  to  a  finer  instinct  and 
crossed  the  street. 

Estabel,  heeding  only  her  own  escape,  ran  into  the 
house,  and  straight  upstairs,  like  a  wild,  driven  crea 
ture. 

Mr.  Clymer  had  ctfme  out  from  his  study  upon  the 
upper  landing,  when  the  carriage  had  stopped;  and  the 
bell  so  madly  pealed.  He  had  taken  a  few  steps  down 
ward  when  Estabel,  blindly  unperceiving,  rushed  toward 
him  from  the  foot. 

"What  on  earth  is  the  matter?  "  she  suddenly  heard 
him  call;  and  midway  up  she  stopped  short. 


308  SQUARE  PEGS. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Clymer  set  foot  on  the  lowest 
stair. 

Estabel  turned  from  one  to  the  other,  trapped. 

There  were  tears  upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  cheeks 
were  burning. 

"Oh,  don't  speak  to  me!  "  she  cried  out,  and  put  her 
hands  before  her  eyes. 

Archibald  was  in  the  hall  below.  The  three  upon 
the  stairs  stood  blocking  each  other's  way. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  asked  Mrs.  Clymer,  in 
amazed  annoyance. 

Her  husband  turned  back  to  clear  the  passage,  and  to 
regain  the  privacy  of  his  own  room. 

Estabel  would  have  gone  by,  and  ascended  the  fur 
ther  flight  to  hers;  but  Mr.  Clymer  summoned  her 
peremptorily. 

"Come  in  here,"  he  commanded.  "Vera,  stop  a 
moment.  We  will  have  this  explained."  Since  there 
was  evidently  no  bodily  catastrophe,  he  resented  the 
commotion. 

"Is  this  the  way  to  enter  the  house?  "  he  interrogated 
Estabel.  And  then  he  closed  the  door  behind  Aunt  Vera. 

Again  Estabel,  at  bay,  looked  from  one  to  the  other 
in  a  strange,  accusatory,  restrained  distress.  Her  eyes 
flamed  with  the  heat  that  had  dried  up  tears. 

Mrs.  Clymer  had  a  surmise  of  something  of  the  truth. 

"  Something  has  happened  in  Shawme  Street, "  she 
said,  deprecatingly,  to  her  husband.  "Is  that  it,  Es 
tabel  ?  But  why  should  you  behave  like  this  ?  " 

Then  Estabel  spoke  in  a  strained,  unnatural  tone. 

"Lilian's  father  is  dead." 

"Well?  "  responded  Mr.  Clymer,  as  if  he  would  have 
said,  "What  then,  to  you,  or  certainly  to  us,  that 
there  should  be  all  this  demonstration  ?  "  He  was  not 
cruel-hearted ;  but  the  event  had  happened  in  Shawme 
Street.  There  was  no  reason  that  84  Mount  Street 
should  be  invaded  with  a  shock. 


WEST  GARDENS  AND  SHAWME  STREET.    309 

Then  Estabel  forgot  everything  but  the  thing  that 
urged  her  with  its  wrong ;  that  had  driven  out  of  her 
all  peaceful  thought  of  death,  and  made  this  death  an 
outrage  and  a  crime. 

"  Well !  "  She  repeated  the  syllable  with  all  the 
emphasis  of  her  pain  and  scornful  indignation.  "Do 
you  think  it  is  well,  Uncle  Clymer,  that  he  should  be 
dead,  and  that  you  and  the  rest  of  those  rich  men 
should  have  all  those  splendid  houses  that  he  helped  to 
build,  when  the  wicked  contracts  that  he  had  to  make 
for  them  are  what  has  killed  him  ?  "  Her  words  poured 
forth  with  rapid  vehemence. 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying,  Estabel  ?  "  The 
question  came  sternly,  but  Mr.  Clymer  would  not  yet 
give  way  to  open  wrath. 

"I  know  that  Brace  and  Buckle  failed  and  did  not 
pay  him.  And  I  know  that  it  made  him  sick,  and  that 
he  is  dead." 

"Who  told  you  so?" 

"  Dr.  North, "  replied  the  girl,  beyond  thinking  of 
fear  or  favor. 

"Damn  Dr.  North!  " 

After  that  there  was  a  sudden  silence  in  the  room. 
The  evil  word  of  cursing,  uttered  by  the  leading  vestry 
man  of  the  Church  of  the  Beatitudes,  petrified  the 
women,  and  there  was  no  more  that  the  leading  vestry 
man  could  immediately  say.  He  had  the  grace  to  turn 
away  a  moment  from  their  faces,  and  resume  something 
of  an  outward  control. 

He  took  up  a  cigar  that  he  had  laid,  half  smoked, 
upon  the  mantel  edge,  knocked  off  the  dead  ash,  saw 
that  the  spark  was  dead,  and  laid  it  down  again.  He 
put  his  hand  upon  the  back  of  his  desk  chair,  as  if  he 
would  seat  himself  and  return  to  his  occupation  which 
the  disturbance  had  interrupted.  But  his  motions  were 
all  vague  and  uneasy.  The  disturbance,  in  effect,  re 
mained.  The  two  women  stood  there,  looking  at  him, 


310  SQUARE  PEGS. 

loth  to  leave  as  at  the  bad  word,  and  not  knowing  what 
to  say. 

He  spoke  again,  covering  his  ebullition  with  a  calmer 
utterance,  and  a  show  of  tolerant,  if  justly  displeased, 
reasoning. 

"What  has  Dr.  North  to  do  with  it?  And  what  if 
Brace  and  Buckle  have  failed  ?  We  are  not  responsible 
for  that.  We  took  them  at  their  own  offer.  We 
forced  no  contracts.  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
people  they  employed.  But  why  should  I  talk  business 
with  you  ?  "  He  broke  off,  rebuking  with  the  word 
both  his  own  false  position  and  hers. 

It  was  equivalent  to  "You  have  no  business  with  the 
matter.  I  am  not  bound  to  explain  to  you."  But  Es- 
tabel  was  untouched  by  the  intimation.  She  had  lost 
sight  of  everything  but  the  one  vital  question  —  the  one 
terribly  absorbing  fact. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  she  said,  "as  if  the  responsibility 
reached  back  all  the  way.  As  if  somebody  —  even  at 
the  farther  end  of  things  —  ought  to  have  made  them 
right." 

She,  as  well  as  Mr.  Clymer,  spoke  more  quietly. 
The  thunderclap  had  left  a  certain  calm  behind  it. 
But  she  was  still  intense.  "I  dkn't  bear,"  she  went  on, 
warming,  "to  think  of  that  twelve  per  cent,  interest  — 
and  its  being  made  out  of  this!  I  wouldn't  have  it 
mine  for  anything;  and  I  hate  to  have  any  of  it  yours, 
Uncle  Clymer!  " 

There  was  a  generous  pleading  even  in  her  swelling 
expostulation.  Its  climax  was  an  appeal  altogether 
tender. 

"It  seems  to  me,  young  lady,"  Mr.  Clymer  rejoined 
deliberately,  turning  full  toward  her  and  looking  down 
upon  her  with  a  cool  fixity  that  was  more  angry  and 
contemptuous  than  a  frown,  or  any  quick,  outbursting 
word,  "that  it  is  about  time  you  were  back  in  Stillwick." 
"Oh,  it  is!  It  is!"  broke  forth  Estabel,  all  her 


WEST  GARDENS   AND   SHAWME   STREET.    311 

pain  and  passion,  her  hurt  affection,  her  conflicting 
gratitude  and  indignation,  finding  irresistible  vent  at 
once.  "I  ought  to  have  been  there  long  ago.  I  ought 
to  have  stayed  there  always.  I  will  go  right  away. 
But  I  never  will  forget  all  you  have  both  done  for 
me !  " 

And  with  that  she  fled  out  of  the  room. 

"Poor  child!  "  said  Aunt  Vera  softly.  "I  'm  sorry 
for  her.  She  takes  everything  so  hard.  But  I  do 
think  she  means  right,  Abel." 

She  would  have  saved  Estabel,  if  she  could,  from  her 
husband's  unyielding  displeasure.  She  knew  very  well 
what  that  could  be.  Things  were  at  a  troublous  pass. 
There  had  been  Ulick  North.  That  had  not  distressed 
her  very  much;  that  was  strictly  Mr.  Clymer's  affair. 
He  could  ask  his  nephew  back  whenever  he  chose. 
There  had  even  been  a  temporary  relief  in  that  direc 
tion.  But  now  here  was  Estabel.  This  sent  down, 
apparently,  all  her  own  house  of  cards. 

She  had  been  getting  tired  of  her  charge  —  as  for  the 
present,  —  true.  Matters  had  riot  joined  or  balanced 
themselves  to  happy  or  secure  results.  But  there  had 
still  been  a  possible  future,  and  Estabel  was  all  she  had 
to  care  for  or  to  build  upon.  She  had  been  willing  to 
shake  off  her  responsibility  —  to  break  up  untoward 
complications  —  for  a  time,  and  make  of  Europe  that 
refuge  which  it  was  becoming  for  so  many  American 
perplexities;  but  she  had  thought  "things  would  work 
round ;  "  that  she  could  come  back  and  take  them  up 
again  at  a  point  of  better  advantage.  Now,  how  would 
it  be  ?  How  would  Estabel  ever  be  asked  —  or  per 
suaded  —  back  again  ? 

All  this  flashed  through  her  mind,  dismayfully,  while 
she  stood  silent  after  her  feeble  intercession,  which  Mr. 
Clymer  noticed  with  no  word. 

"  When  does  her  school  term  close  ?  "  he  asked  at 
length,  with  a  matter-of-fact  brevity,  as  he  might  have 


312  SQUARE  PEGS. 

inquired  when  a  servant's  time  would  be  up.  He  was 
gathering  up  loose  papers  from  his  desk  and  bestowing 
them  in  their  proper  pigeon-holes  and  drawers.  He 
had  reverted  to  his  own  affairs  and  occupation.  The 
little  episode  just  over  was  of  secondary  consequence. 

"In  about  a  fortnight,  I  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Clymer. 

"Very  well.  She  can  stay  till  then.  Afterward,  it 
will  not  be  convenient.  We  shall  be  closing  up  to  go 
abroad." 

It  was  the  first  direct  admission  he  had  made  of  the 
intent. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

DEPARTURES. 

IT  was  one  thing  to  say  that  Estabel  might  stay;  it 
might  prove  to  be  another  question  whether  Mount  Street 
could  keep  her. 

At  that  very  moment,  forgetful  of  everything  but 
that  she  had  been  told  it  was  time  she  should  be  back 
in  Stillwick,  she  was  hurriedly,  agitatedly,  beginning 
her  preparations  to  go.  How  could  she  stay  another 
day  —  how  could  she  eat  another  meal  —  in  the  house 
of  a  man  who  was  under  no  obligation  to  her  of  personal 
relationship,  and  who  had  said  she  had  better  be  away  ? 

Aunt  Vera  found  her  in  a  confusion  of  nerves,  of 
tears,  of  open  and  emptied  bureau  drawers  and  scattered 
array.  The  nerves  and  tears  she  was  scarcely  conscious 
of ;  the  first  were  tense,  the  others  brimmed  up  involun 
tarily,  and  were  dashed  away  from  the  clouding  of  her 
sight  before  they  fell. 

"Now  this  is  nonsense,  Estabel,"  Aunt  Vera  said, 
with  an  effort  at  coolness.  "You  can  do  nothing  about 
all  this  at  present.  Put  away  your  things,  and  calm 
yourself  down.  This  is  Saturday  night." 

Of  course  it  was ;  Estabel  had  had  no  method  in  her 
madness.  Sunday  was  to  be  lived  through,  at  the  very 
least.  There  would  be  no  getting  to  Stillwick  —  no 
sending  of  any  word  thither  —  before  the  Monday. 
And  then,  Monday,  there  was  school;  there  was  Mr. 
Satterwood.  The  girl  was  helplessly  hemmed  in. 

When  the  last  thought  came  to  her,  she  gave  way; 
she  threw  herself  along  her  bed,  upon  the  side  of  which 


314  SQUARE  PEGS. 

she  had  heen  sitting,  folding  up  some  underclothing,  and 
let  her  head  fall  upon  the  little  pile  of  it,  and  the  big 
sobs  break  forth. 

"Estabel,  stop!  Don't  be  hysterical!  Your  uncle 
did  not  mean  to  be  hasty  with  you.  He  did  not  mean 
this,  this  minute.  You  provoked  him.  You  said  things 
that  he  could  not  bear.  You  accused  him." 

"I  'm  forced  into  doing  horrid  things.  I  can't  help 
it.  There's  ever  so  much  that  ought  not  to  be;  it's 
a  cruel,  wrong  world  —  the  way  people  manage  it. 
No ;  Uncle  Clymer  was  not  hasty  —  except  when  "  — 
She  would  not  finish  that  sentence.  "He  said  —  to  me 
—  just  what  he  meant.  He  does  not  want  me  here 
any  more.  Oh,  Aunt  Vera,  how  soon  can  I  go  ?  " 

She  lifted  herself  up  again  as  she  put  the  question, 
and  faced  Aunt  Vera  with  her  flushed  cheeks  and  tear- 
swollen  eyes.  Aunt  Vera  felt  herself  in  a  bad  place. 

She  fell  back  upon  mere  circumstance.  "Your  school 
will  not  be  over  for  a  fortnight,  or  more.  Of  course, 
you  cannot  break  away  from  that  in  this  fashion.  And 
you  know  your  uncle  never  meant  it.  He  only  said  — 
rather  bluntly,  to  be  sure  —  that  you  were  better  off 
among  things  and  people  that  you  understood.  You 
know  you  don't  fit  in  here  very  well,  Estabel.  You 
know  you  are  a  kind  of  square  peg."  She  tried  to 
laugh,  and  make  as  light  of  the  matter  as  possible. 
"When  you  are  older  you  will  see  a  good  many  things 
differently." 

"I  must  write  to  Aunt  Esther.  I  will  do  just  as 
she  says." 

"Don't  write  a  word.  If  I  've  done  anything  kind 
by  you,  Estabel,  do  as  I  say  about  this.  I  don't  want 
your  other  aunt  to  know." 

She  began  to  speak  now  from  her  sincerest  thought. 
and  so  with  clearest  effective  force.  She  would  not 
have  Miss  Charlock  told.  She  would  not  give  up  her 
turn  of  charge  quite  so  disastrously  as  this.  Besides, 


DEPARTURES.  315 

she  knew  Miss  Esther  Charlock ;  she  knew  the  Charlock 
pride  and  determination,  all  through.  She  would  not 
yet  burn  her  ships  behind  her.  She  would  not  cancel 
all  possibility  of  that  by  and  by  with  which  she  still 
consoled  herself.  Mrs.  Clymer's  motives  had  been 
mixed,  and  in  a  large  part  frivolous ;  but  among  them 
had  been  that  which  was  genuine  and  prevailing;  she 
was  really  fond  of  Estabel,  in  such  way  as  she  knew 
how  to  be  fond. 

And  to  this  Estabel  yielded,  as  she  always  did.  "I 
won't  write  anything  without  your  knowing, "  she  said. 
"But  I  do  want  to  go." 

"You  will  go  properly,  and  naturally,  when  school  is 
over.  It  would  have  been  so,  at  any  rate.  Mr.  Clymer 
and  I  are  expecting  to  go  abroad  before  the  end  of  June. 
And  between  now  and  then  he  will  have  to  be  away  in 
New  York  and  Washington.  I  should  be  all  alone ;  and 
we  shall  have  to  say  good-by  for  a  long  time." 

Before  she  left  the  room  she  kissed  the  girl.  It  was 
all  made  up  between  these  two.  For  Mr.  Clymer, 
Estabel  resolved,  upon  long  reflection,  that  she  —  not 
ought,  perhaps  —  she  did  not  humble  herself  quite  to 
this  —  but  that  she  would,  offer  him  some  apology  for 
the  remonstrance  which,  coming  from  her  in  such  im 
petuous  wray,  had  doubtless  seemed  to  him  so  inexcus 
able.  She  could  apologize  for  speech  and  manner  that 
had  offended,  but  she  would  take  back  nothing  else. 
That  would  leave  the  "ought  "  on  Uncle  Clymer's  side; 
he  would  be  in  her  debt  for  his  own  hard  word. 

The  hard,  unseemly  word  that  he  had  spoken  against 
Ulick  North,  Estabel  could  not  forget. 

She  had  grown  to  be  attached  to  her  aunt's  husband 
with  a  respecting,  grateful  regard.  But  she  felt  now 
as  if  she  could  never  even  like  him  any  more. 

Events  took  themselves  into  their  own  hands.  On 
the  Monday,  after  a  stiff  and  mostly  silent  Sunday  inter 
val,  during  which,  however,  Estabel  found  opportunity 


316  SQUARE  PEGS. 

to  say  to  Mr.  Clymer  that  she  was  sorry  she  had 
displeased  him  by  anything  that  he  thought  imperti 
nent,  and  he  answered,  somewhat  loftily,  that  it  might 
pass,  —  she  was  young,  and  would  learn  better,  —  that 
gentleman  left  home  himself,  according  to  a  certain 
prior  intention,  but  no  doubt  feeling  it  a  little  more 
comfortable  for  all  concerned  that  he  should  get  away, 
and  his  wife  and  her  niece  be  quietly  by  themselves  as 
soon  as  possible.  He%ad  to  be  in  New  York  on  Tues 
day,  he  said ;  he  might,  or  might  not,  keep  on  to  Wash 
ington.  He  would  be  at  home  for  the  following  Sunday 
and  Monday ;  then  he  might  have  to  run  out  to  Chicago, 
and  even  round  by  Montreal. 

Mrs.  Clymer  would  have  time  and  place  to  herself, 
and  unhurried  opportunity  for  attention  to  her  house 
affairs,  and  all  the  needful  arrangements  for  closing  up. 

"And  you  will  help  me,  Estabel, "  Aunt  Vera  had 
said  kindly. 

In  the  midst  of  all  that  was  grievous,  Estabel  felt 
gladly  that  hindrance  had  been  reprieval.  She  was 
learning  the  wisdom  of  putting  off  impetuous  action. 
It  was  very  nice  to  have  Aunt  Vera  behave  so  kindly 
to  her.  If  she  had  been  allowed  to  carry  out  her  first 
impulsive  purpose  without  remonstrance,  she  would  not 
have  known  how  generous  Aunt  Vera  was  to  her  in  her 
heart.  And  she  was  thankful,  now,  that  she  had  been 
prevented  from  making  the  contretemps  a  family  affair. 
What  good  would  it  do  to  set  Aunt  Esther  and  Aunt 
Vera  against  each  other?  It  would  be  much  like  a 
child  making  trouble  between  her  parents.  She  resolved 
that  she  would  never  say  a  word  about  it ;  only,  all  the 
same,  she  did  not  think  she  could  ever  again  come  to 
stay  at  Uncle  Clymer's. 

Sara  Sullivant  helped  her  restore  her  things  to  nearly 
their  usual  order.  It  was  not  worth  while  to  unpack 
everything;  she  would  be  going  home  so  soon.  Still- 
wick  icas  home,  after  all. 


DEPARTURES.  317 

She  gave  to  Sara  such  brief  explanatory  hint  of  trou 
ble  as  could  not  be  avoided ;  as  indeed,  with  Archibald 
permeating  the  house  in  the  discharge  of  his  ubiquitous 
duties,  it  would  be  an  absurd  pretense  to  withhold. 

"I  thought  at  first  I  must  go  home,"  she  said;  "but 
I  am  not  going  to,  now." 

"Shows  your  sense,"  was  the  astute  Sara's  answer. 
"It's  a  poor  plan  to  go  off  mad.  Don't  leave  any 
chance  for  straightening  things  out.  It  's  always  easier  to 
smooth  over  on  the  spot,  than  't  is  to  come  back  a-purpose 
to.  Settle  as  you  go  along  —  debts  and  querrels,  my  sir 
used  to  say.  An'  gener'lly,  if  you  wait  a  spell,  things 
happen  along  to  help." 

The  way  they  happened  to  help  still  further  was  this : 

On  the  Tuesday  morning,  bright  and  early,  Simon 
Peter  Babson's  wagon,  with  its  wheels  at  their  wide 
incline  from  their  axles  making  eccentric  tracks  along 
the  freshly  sprinkled  macadam,  came  yawing  up  the 
hill ;  and  at  Number  84  Aunt  Esther,  with  grave,  im 
portant  face,  alighted  at  the  Clymers'  door,  just  as  Es- 
tabel  came  out  upon  the  steps,  setting  off  for  school. 

The  girl  dropped  her  book  satchel,  and  shot  herself 
down  upon  the  sidewalk  with  open  arms.  "Dear  Aunt 
Ettie !  "  she  exclaimed.  "What  can  have  brought  you, 
just  when  —  I  wanted  a  good  talk  with  you  ?  " 

There  was  a  pathos  in  her  voice.  She  was  sad 
enough  to-day.  Lilian's  father  was  to  be  buried  and 
she  was  to  go  to  school  as  usual. 

"Simon  Peter  Babson  brought  me.  Come  into  the 
house  and  I  '11  tell  you  why." 

They  met  Aunt  Vera  at  the  drawing-room  door,  en 
tering  the  room  with  a  vase  of  flowers  which  she  had 
been  freshening  in  the  pantry.  The  "other  aunts " 
mutually  stopped  short. 

Aunt  Esther's  face  was  solemn.  Mrs.  Clymer's  was 
amazed,  perturbed.  Had  Estabel  written,  after  all? 


318  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Estabel  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  "Please, 
what  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  in  puzzled  apprehension. 

"  Colonel  Henslee  died  —  suddenly  —  yesterday  morn 
ing.  I  've  come  to  take  you  home,  Estabel,  to  the 
funeral." 

"Oh!  "  The  exclamation  broke  from  Estabel  with 
an  uprising  force  borne  from  the  depth  of  restrained, 
accumulated  feeling.  It  uttered  more  than  she  was 
aware ;  more  than  Miss  Charlock  could  well  understand. 
Still  less  could  she  comprehend  when  Estabel  turned 
to  her,  put  her  arms  around  her  neck,  and  began  to  cry 
softly. 

"Why,  I  didn't  think  you  would  care  so  much  as 
this,"  she  said,  with  a  gentle  surprise.  "Or  ain't  you 
well?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  well,"  the  answer  came  through  a 
checked  sob.  "But  it's  all  funerals!  Lilian's  father 
is  going  to  be  buried  to-day." 

It  was  such  a  comfort  to  have  somebody  who  would 
be  sorry  with  her  for  Lilian,  that  she  yielded  to  the 
comfort  of  it  and  cried  on.  Mrs.  Clymer  realized  for 
an  instant  what  her  own  unsympathy  had  been. 

"There,  there!  Don't  take  on  about  it.  He's 
better  off.  Everybody  's  better  off  when  they  get 
through  this  straggle  and  snarl,  and  we  ought  to  be 
willing.  Come  into  the  parlor  and  we  '11  talk  things 
over. " 

"  Certainly.  Come  into  the  parlor, "  said  Aunt  Vera, 
with  procrastinated  hospitality. 

"  Did  you  want  to  go  ?  "  Aunt  Esther  put  the  ques 
tion  with  an  intuitive  sense  of  how  Estabel  might  have 
been  kept  from  her  friend's  side  in  this  trouble.  But 
it  was  curiously  relevant  to  all  the  rest. 

"Oh,  yes.  I  am  glad  you  have  come  for  me.  I 
wanted  you." 

"I  mean,  to  this  other  funeral.  Only  I  'm  afraid  it 
will  be  too  much." 


DEPARTURES.  319 

"It  has  been  typhoid,"  said  Aunt  Vera.  "I  have 
not  thought  it  proper  that  she  should  go  to  the  house." 

"I  see.  Perhaps  not.  And  yet  you  may  keep  away 
from  things  and  catch  'em,  and  catch  'em  when  you 
keep  away  from  'em.  It  is  n't  much  use  dodging. 
Still,  one  funeral  at  a  time  is  about  enough.  And  there 
ain't  much  time,  anyway.  Write  a  note  to  Lilian, 
Estabel,  and  go  home  with  me.  Afterwards,  we  '11  see 
what  we  can  do.  What  you  want  is  to  be  some  comfort 
to  her;  and  I  don't  know  as  it  amounts  to  much  to 
undertake  that  in  the  midst  of  the  —  particulars. " 

It  was  necessary  to  return  to  Stillwick  with  as  much 
promptness  as  possible.  While  Estabel  was  upstairs 
writing  her  note  and  preparing  to  go,  Aunt  Esther  in 
terviewed  the  other  aunt  shrewdly. 

"What  is  it,  sister-in-law-in-law ?  Estabel 's  got 
something  more  on  her  mind  than  this  Hawtree  trouble, 
or  else  mixed  in  with  it.  What  ails  her?  And  what 
are  you  holding  in  ?  " 

To  ask  that,  point-blank,  is  merely  a  signal  for  an 
extra  bar  to  be  put  up.  Aunt  Vera's  impassiveness 
was  determinate,  and  so  more  significant  than  before. 

"I  don't  know  of  anything  but  the  Hawtree  trouble," 
she  returned.  "Estabel  is  strangely  taken  up  with 
those  people." 

"And  they  ain't  the  sort  you  want  her  taken  up 
with.  I  see.  Do  you  want  me  to  have  her  back  in 
Stillwick  — •  for  good  ?  " 

"Not  till  her  school  is  over.  Then  we  have  decided 
to  go  to  Europe  again.  I  cannot  tell  when  we  shall 
come  back. " 

"'M!  Well,  then,  this  experiment 's  over.  I  ain't 
sorry.  I  s'pose  you  think  it  's  been  a  failure.  Can't 
always  tell.  Half  the  time  folks  think  a  first-rate 
thing  has  been  a  failure,  and  they  think  it  's  been  a  fail 
ure  when  it  's  really  worked  first  rate.  Time  '11  tell." 

Aunt  Vera  was  comparatively  content  to  leave  it  so. 


320  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"I  hope  it  may  turn  out  for  the  best,"  she  said. 
"I  've  done  my  best." 

"According  to  your  lights.  That 's  all  anybody  can 
do.  And  living  needs  all  kinds  of  lights  upon  it  to 
show  the  way  —  or  where  there  isn't  any  way,  maybe." 

Aunt  Vera  pressed  an  early  luncheon  upon  them. 
She  was  very  nice  about  the  note.  "Archibald  shall 
go  right  down  with  it,"  she  said.  "And  you  may  send 
these  violets.  I  was  going  to  take  them  to  old  Mrs. 
Moraine.  But  I  can  get  some  more." 

"Why,  that 's  dear  of  you!  "  said  Estabel,  and  came 
and  took  the  violets,  and  kissed  her. 

They  went  away  with  kind  good-bys,  and  without 
any  transpiring  of  uncomfortable  complications. 

But  Aunt  Esther  knew  the  other  aunt;  and  she  had 
her  thoughts,  which  bore  fruit  later. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

IN    THE    AWMBY    ROOM. 

WHAT  Aunt  Esther  brought  to  pass  was  this.  Es- 
tabel  did  not  stay  for  those  last  weeks  of  school  at  Aunt 
Vera's.  Miss  Henslee  was  persuaded  by  her  brother 
that  it  would  be  better  for  her  to  come  away  from  Still- 
wick  for  a  little  time,  before  entering  upon  the  needful 
arrangements  at  the  Old  Place,  or  even  deciding  defi 
nitely  what  her  arrangements  for  the  future  should  be. 
Although  Colonel  Henslee 's  death  had  come  suddenly 
at  the  end,  there  had  been  a  long  time  of  helpless  inva- 
lidism  and  close  personal  care,  which  had  greatly  worn 
upon  Miss  Lucy. 

"You  ought  to  have  a  change,"  her  brother  told  her. 
"And  it  will  be  altogether  too  solitary  for  you  here, 
just  now." 

"  But  I  shall  be  solitary  anywhere, "  the  poor  lady 
had  urged.  "You  and  Harry  will  be  away  all  day. 
And  I  don't  care  to  go  out,  and  I  couldn't  see  com 
pany.  I  have  got  to  learn  to  be  solitary.  People  must, 
when  they  have  outlived  almost  everything." 

"That  's  to  be  thought  of  later,"  said  the  kind-hearted 
merchant  cheerily.  He  was  not  without  his  own  half- 
developed  ideas,  but  it  was  too  soon  to  formulate  them 
yet.  "We  have  both  been  solitary,  Lucy.  Now  we 
have  each  other  to  consider.  And  Harry.  Come  to 
town  with  us  for  a  little  while." 

And  then  Cousin  Esther,  who  was  present,  suggested, 
"Why  not  take  Estabel  till  school  is  over?  Vera 
Clymer  can  spare  her  conveniently  enough,  now  she  's 


322  SQUARE  PEGS. 

upsetting  everything  again  to  go  to  Europe.  Estabel  's 
good  company,  and  she  's  young.  Older  folks  want 
something  round  them  that  isn't  old;  that 's  why  the 
generations  come  up  so  fast,  —  three  times  in  a  good  long 
life." 

Miss  Henslee  brightened.  She  wondered  she  had 
not  thought  of  it  before.  Miss  Charlock  did  not  think 
that  strange ;  it  would  not  have  occurred  to  herself  but 
for  that  glimpse  of  second  seeing  which  is  the  discern 
ing  of  relative  this  and  that,  and  putting  the  obvious 
two  and  two  together. 

Estabel  had  told  nothing  which  she  held  it  in  gener 
osity  not  to  tell.  But  she  talked  of  Lilian,  and  spoke 
of  the  facts  of  her  sorrow  simply  as  such. 

"Mr.  Hawtree  was  tired  out  and  discouraged.  He 
had  lost  money  by  his  building  contracts.  And  then 
the  sickness  came,  and  he  could  n't  hold  out  against  it. 
That  is  what  Dr.  North  said. " 

"Those  West  Garden  houses?  " 

"Yes.  Those  were  the  last.  And  the  largest  work 
he  ever  had.  They  were  so  happy  about  it  at  the  be 
ginning.  Then  everything  turned  out  more  dear  in 
price  than  had  been  calculated,  and  Brace  and  Buckle 
failed,  owing  him;  and  it's  the  last  and  the  smallest 
the  whole  load  seems  to  fall  on." 

Estabel 's  voice  lowered,  and  she  stopped  with  a  long 
sigh. 

"And  the  big  fellows  stand  safe  on  the  top  of  the 
heap,  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets.  Chooty-choo!  " 

Miss  Esther  understood  it  all  now.  as  clearly  as  if 
she  had  been  "  a  fly  on  the  wall  "  —  with  human  per 
ceptions  —  during  that  family  colloquy  in  Mount  Street 
on  the  Saturday  night. 

"There  's  some  folks  won't  know  what  this  world 
means  till  they  get  into  the  other;  not  if  they  go  round 
and  round  this  one  forty-leven  times, "  she  said  suc 
cinctly.  "And  round  and  round  —  or  back  and  forth 


IN  THE  AWMRY  ROOM.  323 

—  ain't  compassing  it,  neither;  no  more  is  gethering  up 
the  dust  of  it,  till  the  whole  man  's  turned  to  it.  When 
the  weighin'  in  the  balance  comes,  it  '11  be  Tekel;  and  all 
the  mountains  of  the  earth,  crumbled  fine,  won't  bear 
down  the  scales.  — Izyer  fortieth." 

Miss  Charlock  stuck  a  pin  with  vigor  into  the  band 
of  ribbon  she  was  fastening  to  a  bonnet,  and  with  her 
long  shears  snipped  off  at  one  clip  the  superfluous 
length.  With  the  action  she  fixed  —  and  cut  off  — 
certain  points  of  mental  inference  and  decision  just  as 
resolutely. 

So  it  was  settled,  at  the  due  opportunity;  and  Es- 
tabel  had  just  time,  before  Cousin  Lucy  came  up  to 
Topthorpe,  to  explain,  and  gather  up  her  belongings; 
and  without  any  breach,  but  rather  with  a  relieved  per 
ception,  on  either  side,  of  the  timely  fitness  of  things, 
she  and  Aunt  Vera  said  their  preliminary  good-bys 
affectionately,  and  Estabel  joined  Miss  Henslee  on  her 
arrival  in  Casino  Crescent. 

Aunt  Estker  also  came  up  for  two  or  three  days,  Sun 
day  being  included,  leaving  the  shop  and  housekeeping 
with  Miss  Gillespy,  to  whom  it  was  a  rollicking  holi 
day. 

"You  see,  I  do  get  tired  of  over  and  over,"  she  said, 
brimming  into  pleased  and  voluble  speech  with  her 
assent. 

"I  was  reckoning  up  this  morning,  while  I  made  my 
bed,  how  many  times  I  had  done  that  same  thing,  and 
mostly  in  the  same  place.  Why,  ever  since  I  was  ten 
years  old.  Forty-five  years.  Forty-five  times  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five.  I  had  to  stop  and  fetch  a 
pencil  and  a  piece  of  paper  to  do  it :  sixteen  thousand 
four  hundred  and  twenty-five  times!  Don't  it  tire  a 
person  to  think  of  it  ?  " 

"Why  didn't  you  count  the  miles  you  've  walked,  or 
even  the  steps  you  've  taken  ?  " 

"Yes;    and   brushing  your   hair,    and  your   teeth  — 


324  SQUARE  PEGS. 

while  you  had  'em  —  and  washing  teaspoons,  and  dust 
ing  the  same  old  things  " 

"  And  eating  breakfast  —  and  dinner  —  and  supper 
—  three  meals  every  day ;  three  times  sixteen  thousand 
four  hundred  and  what  is  it  ?  That  's  the  hardest  of 
all,  to  take  in  at  one  swallow  —  and  all  over  again." 

"And  nothing  to  show  for  it  but  about  a  hundred 
and  fifteen  pounds  of  tired-out  old  body, "  said  spare 
little  Miss  Eliza  Gillespy,  the  persistent  ambition  of 
whose  life  it  had  been  to  grow  round  and  shapely,  and 
who  had  never  achieved  it. 

She  took  the  subject  an  grand  serieux  to  the  last 
point,  not  discerning  that  Miss  Charlock  was  treating 
it  in  burlesque. 

"It  's  very  good  we  don't  have  to  calculate,  forward 
nor  back  —  nor  take  any  responsibility  about  pounds 
and  cubits,  nor  the  white  or  black  of  the  hairs  of  our 
heads,"  said  Miss  Charlock.  "I  guess  it  all  goes  to 
show  that  it  isn't  the  steps,  nor  the  mouthfuls,  nor  the 
pickings-up  nor  layings-down,  that  signify ;  nor  the 
flesh  and  bones  that  have  gone  through  it  all  and  come 
out  so  much  the  same  old  sixpence.  It  stands  to  reason 
there  's  something  else  to  grow  of  it.  Not  but  what 
we  've  had  lots  else,  all  the  time  —  sunshine  and  sum 
mers  and  bird-singing  and  flower-blowing;  and  cosy 
storms  and  winter  fires;  and  people  to  see,  and  some 
to  love.  We  Ve  been  alive,  'Lizy  Gillespy,  that  's  the 
whole  story.  And  it  's  to  be  continued." 

"Well,"  said  Eliza  resignedly,  —  "I  trust  it  '11  grow 
more  interestin'  in  the  second  volyum.  —  My!  Won't 
I  have  a  good  time  eveniu's,  among  your  books!  " 

Miss  Charlock  had  several  objects  in  her  projected 
visit  to  Topthorpe,  among  which,  perhaps,  the  opportu 
nity  for  giving  a  clear  good  time  to  Eliza  Gillespy  had 
not  been  overlooked.  That  was  always  the  "and  then  " 
which  dropped  an  extra  sugarplum  into  the  scale  after 
the  beam  was  even. 


IN  THE  AWMRY  ROOM.  325 

But  chiefly  she  meant  to  see  the  Hawtrees,  and  to  try 
if  there  might  he  any  possihle  way  to  jog  circumstance 
for  them.  Mr.  Henslee  was  one  of  the  stock  company 
owners  and  builders  of  West  Gardens.  She  meant  that 
he  at  least  should  learn  what  she  felt  reasonably  sure 
Estabel  had,  in  some  precipitate,  self-defeating  way, 
made  known  in  Mount  Street.  Happily,  Harrison 
Henslee  and  Abel  Clymer  were  two  somewhat  different 
types  of  business  men. 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  a  little  justice,  if  it 
might  be ;  the  next  best  thing  —  kindness  —  might 
come  later.  Miss  Charlock  had  already  —  as  had  Mr. 
Henslee  —  certain  indefinite  lights  upon  plans  of  her 
own  glimmering  in  the  horizon  of  her  mind;  but  like 
him  she  was  refraining  from  pointing  them  out  prema 
turely.  However  brilliant  one's  inspirations  may  be  for 
others,  one  must  wait  to  disclose  them  until  those  others 
can  be  led  up  more  or  less  nearly  to  the  necessary  point 
of  view. 

"I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to  the  Hawtrees'  to 
morrow,  "  said  Aunt  Esther,  looking  up  from  her  knit 
ting  and  across  her  spectacles,  as  they  all  sat  together 
in  the  big  "awmry  room"  in  Casino  Crescent.  It  was 
the  "awmry"  room,  because  one  whole  side  of  it  was 
taken  up  with  an  immense  piece  of  furniture  —  ward 
robe,  cabinets,  and  drawers  —  heavy  with  antique  carv 
ing  and  brilliant  with  rich  old  polished  brass  —  that 
had  been  brought  in  pieces  from  England  in  the  last 
century ;  they  said  from  the  real  old  Hensleigh  Hall ; 
and  that  had  to  be  built  in  wherever  it  was  placed.  It 
had  been  stored  in  cases  for  a  long  time  before  Harrison 
Henslee  bought  this  house;  the  ceilings  were  not  high 
enough  for  it  at  Stillwick-Henslee ;  nobody  thought  it 
would  be  likely  ever  to  be  moved  again  —  unless,  indeed, 
as  had  been  mooted,  an  alcove  were  thrown  out,  or  a  floor 
raised  on  purpose  at  the  country  homestead.  The  old 
colonel  had  never  cared  for  that.  They  all  supposed 


326  SQUARE  PEGS. 

it  had  come  to  its  final  anchorage  in  this  stately  dwell 
ing  in  the  central  high  precinct  of  the  city.  But  they 
reckoned  without  the  premonition  of  Greater  Topthorpe. 

"I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to  the  Hawtrees',  Es- 
tabel." 

Estabel  looked  up  with  a  grateful  smile.  Harry 
Henslee  said,  "Good  for  you,  Aunt  Esther!  "  He  was 
playing  checkers  with  Estabel,  and  as  he  spoke  he 
moved  a  man  so  that  she  immediately  put  one  of  hers 
en  prise,  and  then  leaped  over  three  of  his  into  the  king 
row. 

Harry  laughed,  and  sweeping  the  pieces  into  their 
box,  turned  to  Miss  Charlock,  to  whom  he  spoke  again, 
without  any  laugh  at  all. 

"I  'm  afraid  they  're  going  to  be  very  poor,"  he  said. 

Aunt  Esther  had  called  forth  precisely  the  response 
and  general  attention  that  she  wished. 

"Then  Estabel  has  told  you?  " 

"Not  much.  Only  that.  She  thinks  they  can't 
have  money  enough." 

"She  told  me —  Estabel,  just  explain  it  again,  if 
you  please." 

Estabel  looked  a  little  surprised.  Aunt  Esther's 
comprehension  was  always  clear,  and  her  memory  dis 
tinct.  Why  did  she  refer  it  all  to  her?  But  she  stated 
the  facts  again. 

"He  lost  money  by  those  contracts." 

Mr.  Henslee  laid  down  his  evening  paper.  "What 
contracts?  "  he  asked.  "And  how  came  you  to  know?  " 

"Those  houses  in  West  Gardens.  And  Brace  and 
Buckle  failed.  And  Dr.  North  said  it  was  the  worry 
and  the  wearing  d5ut  that  made  him  sick." 

Estabel  carefully  reserved  this  time  her  own  person 
ality  and  indignation.  It  might  be  supposed  that  what 
Dr.  North  had  told  the  family  had  come  round,  in  gen 
erality,  to  her.  Mr.  Henslee  did  not  know  how  rigor 
ously  she  had  been  kept  out  of  direct  communication. 


IN  THE  AWMRY  ROOM.  327 

Aunt  Esther,  still  putting  her  twos  and  twos  to 
gether,  fitted  this  subdued  reticence  to  her  theory,  and 
was  conclusively  assured  that  the  girl  had  spoken  freely 
and  been  snubbed  effectually  elsewhere.  She  boldly 
took  up  the  word  herself. 

"Contracts,  seems  to  me,  are  generally  the  devil's 
precautions.  They  always  take  the  flesh  out  some 
where.  It's  nip  and  tuck  all  the  way  through;  who 
can  nip  the  closest,  and  tuck  away  the  smartest.  The 
best  plan,  I  guess,  would  be  to  settle  up  afterwards, 
according  to  how  things  come  out.  Then  you  can  see 
what  's  fair,  all  round." 

"It  would  n't  do  to  leave  things  at  loose  ends  like 
that, "  said  Mr.  Henslee,  gaining  time,  perhaps,  by 
means  of  a  little  incidental  argument.  "It  only  turns 
the  advantage  —  the  power  of  taking  advantage  —  over 
to  the  other  side.  You  must  know  where  you  are  in  busi 
ness  matters.  A  contract  should  be  just,  but  settling 
afterward  would  be  confusion." 

"I  don't  mean  at  the  end  of  the  world,"  said  Miss 
Charlock.  "Every  Saturday  night,  say;  or  every  first 
of  the  month;  when  the  bills  come  in,  and  the  money 
has  to  go  out.  Just  keep  square  as  you  go  along;  that 
looks  plain  enough  when  everything  is  fair.  Let  the 
capital  take  the  risks  and  pay  for  brains  and  time  and 
labor  what  they  're  worth,  and  on  the  spot.  It  's  all 
wages.  '  Agree  with  your  adversary  quickly,  while 
you  're  in  the  way  with  him.'  That  appears  to  be  the 
New  Testament  of  it." 

"Adversary  —  yes.  When  the  question  is  the  con 
doning  of  a  quarrel.  We  're  talking  of  agreements, 
that  suppose  no  quarrel,  but  an  honorable  understand 
ing." 

"And  don't  that  tell  you  how  to  agree?  And  as  to 
1  adversary  '  —  we  're  talking  of  business.  Judging  by 
the  common  look  of  things,  everybody  's  an  adversary, 
more  or  less,  that  you  do  business  with." 


328  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Mr.  Henslee  laughed.  "An  adversary  is  only  the 
opposite  party,  of  course.  The  world  's  a  game.  You 
have  to  play  your  own  side  of  it." 

"To  play  even,  the  strongest  side  gives  odds  some 
times,  "  said  Miss  Charlock,  and  there  stopped.  She 
had  hrought  the  matter  home  to  the  starting-point  of 
responsibility ;  treating  in  the  abstract  what  Estabel 
had  forced  by  application  to  personal  offense.  Estabel, 
listening,  perceived  the  better  discretion.  But  then, 
this  was  Mr.  Harrison  Henslee. 

That  gentleman  now  addressed  herself. 

"Of  course,"  he  remarked,  "you  don't  know  just 
how  this  Mr.  Hawtree  has  left  his  affairs.  If  we  could 
learn,  practically,  exactly  how  matters  stand,  we  might 
perhaps  see  the  way  to  something.  We  can't,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  follow  up  all  Brace  and  Buckle's  obli 
gations  ;  any  crookedness  there  must  rest  with  them. 
But  there  might  be  a  chance  somehow  to  lend  a  hand 
in  a  special  case  like  this.  How  could  we  get  at  it,  do 
you  think  ?  " 

"  R.  Thistlestoke  would  know, "  Estabel  answered 
quietly. 

Mr.  Henslee,  she  could  perceive,  would  by  no  means 
go  all  lengths  rashly,  as  she  in  her  enthusiasm  would 
have  people  do ;  but  he  was  evidently  a  man  to  move 
unhesitatingly  in  the  right  direction,  as  soon  and  as  far 
as  he  could  see  it  clearly.  So  she  simply  replied  to  his 
question,  in  the  new  wisdom  she  was  learning  of  her 
generation. 

"I  will  see  Mr.  Thistlestoke  and  Dr.  North,"  Mr. 
Henslee  said.  And  with  that  he  took  up  his  paper  again. 

Estabel  felt  the  satisfaction  that  comes  of  having  put 
things  that  are  beyond  one's  self  into  strong,  competent 
hands.  And  Aunt  Esther  resumed  her  knitting,  saying 
within  herself,  "That  bread  's  set  to  rise." 

On  the  Sunday  afternoon  she  went  with  Estabel  to 
Shawme  Street. 


IN  THE   AWMRY  ROOM.  329 

They  were  taken  up  into  the  Gladmother's  room. 
All  the  sunshine  was  let  in,  and  all  the  rainbows  were 
shimmering  their  gentle  glories,  broken  into  beautiful 
morsels  and  streams  of  separate  or  gathered  color, 
through  the  quiet  place. 

She  sat  in  her  great  easy  chair,  in  snowy  cap  and 
kerchief,  and  soft  gown  of  black,  her  countenance  se 
rene,  her  posture  restful. 

Lilian  had  been  reading  to  her.  An  open  book  lay 
where  she  had  left  it  when  she  went  downstairs  to  wel 
come  them.  Her  straw  bonnet  was  upon  the  bed,  as 
she  had  put  it  off  when  she  had  come  back  from  church. 
It  was  not  black;  there  was  no  black  about  it;  the 
white  straw  was  crossed  with  a  dark,  dark  green  ribbon, 
and  among  the  sheathing  loops  of  the  lightly  knotted  bow 
upon  one  side  some  sprays  of  lily  of  the  valley  were  so 
set  as  to  seem  springing  from  out  their  natural  leafage. 

Her  dress  was  of  pale  gray  woolen;  two  or  three 
stems  of  real  lilies  were  fastened  in  her  golden  brooch 
and  dropped  their  sweet  bells  down  upon  her  bosom. 

There  was  nothing  here  of  distress  or  of  foreboding; 
it  was  a  holy  peace.  The  day  was  heaven's  day;  it 
parted  the  days  of  earth  with  blessed  pause. 

"We  are  all  here,"  said  the  Gladmother,  with  grand 
uplift  in  her  low,  calm  utterance.  "It 's  only  to  make 
the  place  sweet  and  ready ;  and  they  come.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  way  now.  It  is  so  different  from  watch 
ing  the  weakness  and  the  pain  that  came  between." 

It  was  as  if  they  had  risen  out  of  it  with  him  who 
had  died,  and  were  walking  with  him  above  it  all,  in 
the  light  of  the  living. 

Whatever  Miss  Charlock  and  Estabel  had  come  to 
say  or  to  ask,  withdrew  for  the  time  from  their  lips  and 
passed  out  of  their  thought.  What  was  there  here  to 
comfort  ?  What  care  or  trouble  to  inquire  into  ?  Cer 
tainly,  at  least,  this  was  not  the  moment,  and  the  way 
was  not  open,  for  that. 


330  SQUARE  PEGS. 

But  Miss  Charlock  was  a  practical  woman.  She 
would  not  ultimately  forget  the  facts  she  knew,  nor  the 
things  that  she  had  come  for.  After  a  half  hour  that 
was  like  the  time  of  the  silence  in  heaven  —  which  must 
have  been  a  hushing  into  a  great  peace,  between  earth 
quake  and  earthquake,  when  the  voice  had  just  spoken 
the  everlasting  promise  of  the  feeding  in  heavenly  pas 
ture  and  the  leading  beside  living  water,  and  the  wiping 
away  of  all  tears  —  when  these  things  echoed  in  the 
spirit,  and  if  there  were  words  they  were  but  as  breaths 
of  calm  —  Aunt  Esther,  more  ministered  to  than 
ministering,  withdrew  with  Estabel,  and  Lilian  accom 
panied  them  downstairs. 

At  the  door  Miss  Charlock  turned.  "I  shall  come 
again,"  she  said.  "And  I  want  to  ask  things,  and  I 
hope  you  won't  think  me  meddlesome,  for  they  've  got 
to  be  thought  of.  Your  grandmother  is  in  heaven,  and 
I  don't  dare  to  call  her  down.  But  all  the  more,  you  '11 
want  somebody  to  talk  to  about  what  has  to  be  done  in 
this  world.  And  I  don't  believe  anybody  cares  more 
that  it  should  be  comfortable  for  you  than  Estabel  and 
I  do." 

Lilian  kissed  and  thanked  her,  and  begged  her  to 
,come  when  she  could,  and  say  what  she  pleased. 

And  so  the  two  went  off  along  Shawme  Street,  and 
across  the  long  diagonal  of  Old  Park,  and  back  to  the 
Crescent. 

.  "I  mean  to  see  this  thing  straightened  out  in  some 
shape, "  said  Aunt  Esther,  as  they  crossed  Trepeake 
Street,  "if  I  stay  till  Thursday.  And  Eliza  Gillespy 
may  go  her  lengths. " 

Three  intervening  days  were  not  much;  but  they  re 
presented  a  campaign,  as  "all  summer  "  did  in  years 
afterward,  to  General  Grant.  And  Mr.  Henslee  was  a 
man  of  business  promptness. 

Before  Monday  night  he  had  seen  Dr.  North  and  R. 
Thistlestoke,  and  Mr.  Abel  Clymer;  was  possessed  of 


IN  THE  AWMRY   ROOM.  331 

all  that  was  to  be  known  of  the  Hawtree  affairs,  and  had 
made  his  first  approaches  —  advisedly,  perhaps,  at  the 
most  difficult  point  —  with  the  questioning  of  what  might 
reasonably  or  possibly  be  done. 

R.  Thistlestoke  held  the  insurance  policy.  "It  was 
to  satisfy  him,''  he  said.  "I  could  lose  the  money  as 
well  as  he  could.  And  I  never  had  any  intention  that 
the  little  girl  should  lose.  But  I  can't  see  clear  how  to 
make  'em  take  it  back.  They  '11  Avant  it  all  explained; 
and  they  knew  he  owed  me ;  and  there  '  s  the  document, 
indorsed  over  to  my  name.  I  'm  only  waiting  to  con 
trive  how  to  get  round  it." 

"Perhaps  it  may  take  several  of  us  to  contrive.  If 
Brace  and  Buckle's  paper  could  be  redeemed  —  or  a  part 
of  it  —  there  '11  be  some  sort  of  a  percentage,  and  some 
of  the  notes  might  be  bought  up  —  you  needn't  explain, 
further  than  that.  You  had  better  offer  your  help,  and 
take  out  letters  of  administration  —  you  are  quite  the 
natural  person  —  and  we  may  save  something  out  of  the 
estate." 

"And  fix  the  figures  a  little  if  they  need  it,"  said  R. 
Thistlestoke,  with  a  shrewdly  honest  smile.  "There 
are  some  little  twists,  I  take  it,  that  may  be  step-rela 
tions  to  the  father  of  lies;  but  step-relations  don't  in 
herit  !  "  There  was  a  glee  in  his  bit  of  humor,  that 
might  have  been  wicked,  if  his  purpose  had  been;  there 
is  a  certain  delight  in  daring,  righteously,  for  an  emer 
gency,  an  ordinarily  unlawful  thing.  Probably  it  .is 
that,  in  a  crude  demonstration,  which  animates  some 
well-known  destructive  activities  at  a  fire.  So,  also, 
men  kill,  in  battle.  The  dogs  of  human  nature  are  ex 
ultantly  let  loose  in  war. 

''If  it  is  needed  —  yes,"  said  Mr.  Henslee.  "But  I 
think  if  you  take  affairs  in  hand,  they  will  leave  every 
thing  to  you.  An  old  lady  —  and  a  young  girl  —  what 
can  they  understand,  except  what  you  tell  them? 
You  '11  have  the  papers,  and  you  '11  look  it  all  up. 


332  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Surely  you  can  collect  a  life  insurance,   and  pay  over 
that." 

R.  Thistlestoke  shook  his  strong,  close-thatched  gray 
head.  "They  knew  he  owed  me,"  he  repeated.  "And 
that  he  'd  given  up  something  to  settle  it.  He  talked 
in  his  sickness,  and  I  don't  know  how  much  he  mayn't 
have  said,  or  what  they  understand.  But  they  '11  want 
to  see  eveiy thing  now,  before  they  take  a  cent.  That 
kind  of  thing  runs  in  a  family." 

"We  shall  have  to  settle  you  through  Brace  and 
Buckle,  then."  And  Mr.  Henslee  put  on  his  hat,  and 
•went  away  to  find  Abel  Clymer. 

Mr.  Clymer  "did  not  propose  to  cash  any  of  Brace 
and  Buckle's  failed  paper."  "Business  is  business," 
he  said.  "But  I  'm  with  you  in  the  matter  of  a  sub 
scription,  and  I  don't  care  how  you  apply  it.  What 
figure  ?  "  And  he  turned  to  his  desk-table,  and  drew 
forth  his  check-book. 

"I  '11  tell  you  when  I  've  been  all  round,"  said  Mr. 
Henslee.  "There  are  six  of  us.  The  life  insurance 
is  for  five  thousand.  I  think  we  can  manage  that 
much. " 

"All  right.  But  it  's  not  a  good  precedent."  Mr. 
Clymer  was  in  for  it,  and  would  by  no  means  retreat  or 
hesitate.  He  had  no  mind  to  be  left  out  of  good  com 
pany  in  a  good,  above-board  generosity,  or  be  obviously 
taken  aback  by  the  amount  demanded.  He  thanked 
Heaven  devoutly  that  he  could  afford  it.  The  appeal 
was  to  his  record  on  earth,  not  to  the  account  kept  else 
where.  He  was  in  a  very  good  humor  when  Mr.  Hens 
lee  took  his  leave. 

"You  've  got  that  little  niece  of  my  wife's  at  your 
house,  I  find,"  he  said.  "It's  easy  to  track  a  mouse 
sometimes ;  I  think  I  can  follow  her  up  on  this.  She  be 
gan  with  me,  but  she  slapped  the  thing  rather  too  directly 
in  my  face.  Tell  her  that  a  man  does  n't  always  mean 
every  word  he  says,  when  he  's  taken  by  surprise  and 


IN  THE  AWMRY  ROOM.  333 

provoked  to  say  it  in  a  hurry.  And,  by  the  way,  if 
you  see  that  fellow  Ulick,  tell  him,  will  you,  that  I 
expect  him  to  call  here  before  we  go  away.  I  shall  be 
off  a  good  deal  just  at  present,  but  a  week  or  two  will 
finish  that,  and  we  don't  sail  till  the  30th." 

In  the  awmry  room  again  that  evening  Mr.  Henslee 
reported  to  his  family  party. 

"I  think  we  shall  raise  the  money,"  he  said. 
"Thistlestoke  is  to  manage  the  matter  with  the  Haw- 
trees.  A  good,  honest  fellow,  that.  Estabel,  what 
did  you  say  to  your  uncle  —  Mr.  Clymer  —  about 
this  ?  "  He  looked  at  Estabel  with  a  quizzical  smile. 
She  started,  and  the  color  flushed  up  into  her  face. 

"No  harm,"  said  Mr.  Henslee.  "I  was  only  curious 
to  know,  from  a  remark  of  his,  what  a  mouse  could 
have  slapped  in  his  face." 

"Probably  a  tale,"  said  Estabel  demurely. 

"With  a  pretty  sharp,  quick  lash?  Never  mind. 
It  's  all  right.  He  's  been  very  liberal  about  this." 

"I  only  told  him,"  Estabel  resolutely  explained,  with 
a  quite  recovered  calmness,  "what  Dr.  North  said  about 
Mr.  Hawtree's  sickness,  and  the  worry  that  brought 
it  on.  But  I  ought  not  to  have  repeated  it  in  the  way 
I  did.  I  said  it  was  all  those  wicked  contracts." 

"Portia,  rebuking  half  a  dozen  Shylocks!  "  said  Mr. 
Henslee  in  great  apparent  amusement.  "And  what  did 
he  say?  " 

"I  don't  believe  I  had  better  tell  you." 

Estabel  caught  her  Aunt  Esther's  keen,  inquisitorial 
glance.  Thumbscrews  would  not  have  wrung  from  her 
what  Uncle  Clymer  had  said  to  herself.  But  she  saw 
that  its  nature  was  likely  to  be  inferred,  confirming  a 
first  guess ;  and  she  made  instant  daring  diversion. 

"He  said,  'Damn  Dr.  North.'  '  She  repeated  the 
remark  in  as  quiet,  matter  of  fact  a  way  as  if  it  had 
been  in  any  other  three  words. 

Mr.  Henslee  and  Harry  shouted.       "'  Tell  the  truth, 


334  SQUARE  PEGS. 

and  shame  the  devil. '  Estahel,  you  always  do !  "  the 
young  man  cried. 

Even  Cousin  Lucy  smiled. 

Aunt  Esther  scarcely  relaxed  her  scrutinizing  gaze, 
while  Mr.  Henslee  gave  Estabel,  as  seemed  here  appro 
priate,  her  uncle's  message,  which  she  received  comfort 
ably,  referable  as  it  was  to  the  explosive  observation 
she  had  just  quoted. 

"Please  don't  tell  Dr.  North,"  she  begged,  with  a 
freshly  aroused  sense  of  unwarrantableness  in  the  use 
of  his  name  to  which  she  had  been  led. 

"Oh,  I  'm  commissioned  with  a  good  word  for  him 
also,"  returned  Mr.  Henslee.  "And  I  shall  not  exceed 
my  commission." 

Aunt  Esther  turned  her  look  on  him  still  gravely. 

"I  never  studied  algebray, "  she  observed.  "But  it 
looks  to  me  as  if  there  was  some  algebray  at  work. 
There  's  an  unknown  quantity  somewhere,  and  only  one 
small  peg  to  hang  your  calculation  upon,  if  I  understand 
the  sort  of  thing.  Well  —  I  ain't  one  to  want  to  know 
more  than  I  'm  told;  nor  to  be  wise  above  that  which 
is  written.  I  believe  that  's  in  the  Bible,  though  I 
was  looking  for  it  in  the  Concordance  the  other  day, 
and  couldn't  find  it." 

"  Estabel, "  she  said  to  her  niece  when  they  were  un 
dressing  in  their  adjoining  rooms  that  night,  "I  sup 
pose  you  mean  to  go  and  see  your  other  aunt  —  and 
your  uncle-in-law  —  now  and  then,  before  they  start, 
don't  you?" 

And  Estabel  answered,  "Why,  of  course,  Aunt 
Esther." 

" Chooty-choo !  You're  a  sphinx, "  said  Miss  Char 
lock.  Then  as  she  laid  her  last  particular  hairpin  in 
its  particular,  detached  place  upon  her  dressing-table, 
she  went  on,  with  certain  enigmatical  enunciations. 

"I  can  tell  you  one  little  bit  of  experience,  though. 


IN  THE  AWMRY  ROOM  335 

You  can't  bring  even  a  lead  pencil  to  a  good  clean 
point  by  slashing  away  at  what  holds  the  whole  thing 
together.  You  '11  be  sure  to  break  it  off  short.  First 
sharpen  down  carefully  what  point  you  've  got,  and 
when  that  's  fine  you  can  cut  away  all  the  wood  you 
want  to.  Wood  's  habit,  and  lead  's  character." 

"Thank  you,  Aunt  Esther.  I  '11  remember  that  the 
next  time  I  sharpen  a  lead  pencil." 

Aunt  Esther  thought  to  herself,  as  she  got  into  bed 
—  without  any  reminder  of  the  Old  Serpent,  —  "  That 
girl 's  one  of  us  now.  She  's  grown  up." 

Ulick  North  called  in  Mount  Street.  He  was  re 
ceived  as  if  he  had  been  there  once  a  week.  But  as  he 
took  his  leave  his  uncle,  accompanying  him  to  the  door, 
said  to  him,  "We  haven't  seen  so  much  of  you  lately 
as  we  used  to.  I  hope  you  have  been  kept  busy  in 
your  practice.  I  wouldn't  have  liked  to  go  away  with 
out  saying  good-by.  We  don't  think  exactly  alike 
about  everything;  but  I  don't  quarrel,  as  I  told  you 
before.  If  I  get  back  all  right,  maybe  we  shall  under 
stand  each  other  better.  We  shall  both  be  a  little 
older,  though  that  doesn't  make  so  much  difference -at 
my  time  of  life.  If  I  don't  get  back  —  well,  you 
mustn't  be  surprised  if  you  find  an  old  man  can  have 
whims  as  well  as  a  young  one." 

It  was  very  enigmatical.  He  said  it  in  a  perfectly 
friendly  tone,  and  even  lightly ;  but  it  was  evident  that 
by  figure  as  well  as  in  fact,  he  stood  in  firm  conscious 
ness  upon  his  own  doorstone,  and  Ulick  North  upon  a 
step  below.  It  was  also  clear  that  this  was  meant  for 
the  good-by. 

"  Good-night,  uncle ;  and  good-by,  "  the  young  doctor 
responded.  "I  hope  you '11  have  a  pleasant  trip,  and 
come  back  all  right,  and  in  good  time." 

He  went  down  into  the  street,  and  Mr.  Clymer  shut 
the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

AUNT  ESTHER'S  SOLO. 

MB.  THISTLESTOKE  advised  the  selling  of  the  house. 
A  mortgage  was  a  millstone,  always ;  and  it  was  hard 
to  make  renting  pay.  Repairs,  insurance,  taxes  —  a 
house  was  a  kind  of  a  highway  robber,  anyway,  unless 
you  could  afford  to  make  a  home  of  it. 

"Of  course,  it  's  hard  —  for  the  old  lady,  especially. 
But  I  take  it  she  's  one  of  the  sort  that  you  may  turn 
out  of  house,  if  you  please,  but  you  can't  out  of  home. 
She  '  11  see  it  '  s  more  reasonable ;  the  income  of  five 
thousand  dollars  isn't  a  terrible  sight,  for  a  living;  and 
they  won't  want  to  eat  up  their  cake.  Land  is  coming 
up  on  Shawme  Street ;  folks  are  finding  out  that  the 
river  is  pleasant.  I  should  n't  wonder  if  the  property 
was  to  bring  considerable  over  the  mortgage.  As  it  is 
now,  it  won't  pay  any  interest,  except  to  the  mort 
gagee." 

"It's  good  and  it's  safe,"  Estabel  said  to  Miss 
Charlock  soberly.  "They  '11  see  it  's  right,  and  they  '11 
do  it.  But  the  lovely  old  rooms,  and  the  rainbows ! 
Where  else  can  they  go  ?  "What  will  they  do  ?  " 

"I  sha'n't  stand  round  saying  that.  Everybody  tunes 
up  in  that  chorus.  If  I  sing  at  all,  it  '11  be  a  solo.  I 
don't  know  what  they  '11  do;  but  I  know  what  I  shall, 
and  where  my  part  comes  in.  I  mean  to  ask  them  to 
come  to  Stillwick,  chandelier-drops  and  all." 

Estabel's  soberness  flashed  into  sudden  delight ;  her 
reluctant  word  of  acquiescence  into  an  acclamation  of 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  SOLO.  337 

"Why,  Aunt  Esther!  That's  the  brightest  thing 
- —  the  very  sweetest  —  the  sublimest  thing  —  that  any 
body  ever  thought  of!  How  did  it  come  into  your 
head  ?  I  know, "  —  flying  at  and  squeezing  her  comely 
proportions  in  a  strong  young  embrace,  —  "right  from 
your  great,  big,  pretending  -  to  -  be  -  inaccessible  Mont 
Blanc  of  a  heart !  " 

"Chooty-choo!  No  such  thing.  It's  only  common 
sense.  It  's  the  best  thing  all  round,  that 's  all.  I  'm 
only  buttering  my  own  bread.  I  'm  a  speculator.  It  's 
in  the  air  of  Topthorpe,  and  I  've  caught  it.  But  I 
wish  my  house  was."  She  was  reverting,  regardless 
of  verbal  connection,  to  the  comparison  with  Mont 
Blanc.  "I  believe  it 's  generally  the  folks  that  have 
the  little  houses  that  come  across  the  most  to  fill  'em 
up  with.  And  folks  that  come  across  the  most  —  well, 
there  might  be  ways,  after  all, "  she  broke  away  vaguely, 
failing  to  grasp  with  her  usual  precision  the  elements 
of  her  own  peculiar  style  of  transposition.  "If  they 
turn  out  to  be  necessary,  that  is.  Things  come  round 
to  match,  once  in  a  while,  and  I  might  feel  it  consistent 
to  add  on  a  piece.  Mr.  Henslee  says  the  railroad  's 
coming  round  our  way,  along  the  river  from  Peaceport; 
and  they'll  want  some  of  our  land  —  yours  and  mine; 
that  long  heater-piece  beyond  the  old  woods  and  the 
gravel  bank.  They'll  want  our  gravel,  too;  lays  right 
to  their  hand.  They  '11  give  us  eighteen  hundred  dol 
lars.  And  all  the  land  round  there  will  be  coming  up 
in  price.  The  depot  '11  be  at  the  little  upper  village 
by  the  bridge.  It  '11  build  out  right  and  left.  Not 
that  I  want  to  sell  — in  any  hurry.  But  it  '11  be  yours 
some  time,  and  I  'm  glad  of  that.  We  '11  keep  the  old 
woods,  and  the  old  comfort  a  while." 

There  was  something  very  nice  in  being  talked  to  so 
by  Aunt  Esther.  It  conveyed  to  Estabel  that  excellent 
relative's  own  impression  of  her,  that  she  was  now 
grown  up  —  into  the  sympathies  and  confidence  of  her 


338  SQUARE  PEGS. 

elders,  as  beginning  to  be  one  with  them.  It  was  that, 
and  not  the  dignity. 

Everything  was  full  of  comfort  suddenly.  "It  seems 
as  if  the  woods,  and  the  brook,  and  the  river,  and  the 
birds  might  make  up, "  she  said  to  herself,  thinking 
cheerily  of  Lilian  and  the  Gladmother.  "And  the 
rainbows  can  come,  too.  Aunt  Esther  understands." 

Mrs.  Trubin  met  them  precisely  on  that  ground,  and 
with  the  very  words  they  had  anticipated,  when  they 
talked  of  it  with  her  —  putting  very  gently,  tentatively, 
the  compensations  of  the  offered  plan :  country  air  and 
sunshine  and  quiet  sweetness  —  grass,  great  trees,  wide 
open  mornings,  unbroken  sunset  splendors  and  deep 
calms  of  night  —  for  the  old  wontedness  that  must  be 
given  up.  Would  she  exchange?  Wouldn't  she  be 
willing?  Wouldn't  it  be  even  more  of  the  best  that 
had  made  it  —  as  to  the  outside  —  so  pleasant  here  ? 
More  to  which  to  join  the  sweetest  of  the  home  feeling? 
That  was  n't  in  the  walls. 

"No,"  said  the  Gladmother.  "It  never  is.  It 
isn't  the  place,  but  what  is  in  the  place  —  and  what 
reaches  down  into  it  —  that  makes  it  dear.  We  can 
take  all  our  rainbows  with  us.  The  light 's  everywhere, 
and  home  's  everywhere.  When  we  move,  we  move  the 
whole  of  us  —  whether  we  change  houses  or  worlds. 
We  only  leave  the  shell.  We  don't  grow  to  that. 
I  'm  not  troubled.  There  's  always  a  place  prepared." 

She  folded  her  hands  and  smiled. 

With  Lilian,  Miss  Charlock  had  approached  the  sub 
ject  on  its  practical  side,  which  she  knew  must  be  made 
quite  clear  to  her. 

"  Had  you  thought  of  anything  ?  "  she  asked  her. 
"Anything  to  do,  I  mean,  if  you  stayed  here?  " 

"I  thought  that  perhaps  I  could  make  bonnets." 

"Well,  you  and  I  thought  alike.  I  know  you  could. 
That 's  just  what  I  want  of  you.  I  '11  tell  you  the 
honest  truth.  That  straw  bonnet  of  yours,  when  I  saw 


AUNT  ESTHER'S  SOLO.  839 

it  Sunday,  with  the  green  loops,  and  the  lilies  of  the 
valley  standing  up  amongst  them  as  if  they  'd  grown  so, 
settled  my  mind  about  that  part  of  it,  if  it  was  Sun 
day,  and  a  house  of  mourning.  You  can't  help  seeing 
things,  if  you  're  ever  so  sorry.  I  want  you  to  come 
to  Stillwick,  and  make  bonnets  with  me.  It  '11  be  an 
independent  income.  It 's  all  for  the  main  chance 
with  me,  as  much  as  you.  I  'm  looking  out  for  number 
one."  Aunt  Esther  had  to  impress  this  view  of  the 
case  very  strongly,  to  justify  her  own  common  sense,  as 
well  as  to  persuade  the  nice  sense  of  obligation  in  her 
hearer.  "You '11  bring  newness.  You'll  have  a  live 
idea  for  every  separate  thing.  And  you  '11  bring  cus 
tom.  Custom  likes  to  go  a  little  out  of  the  wa\y,  some 
times,  when  it  can  discover  something  all  for  itself. 
You'll  do  more  in  Stillwick  —  once  you  begin  —  in  a 
single  year,  than  you  could  do  on  Marlington  Street 
in  ten.  Peaceport  has  found  out,  already,  and  Top- 
thorpe  will.  There  's  going  to  be  a  railroad.  It  all 
bears  down  to  one  point.  Don't  you  think  you  and 
your  grandmother  could  make  up  your  minds  to  be 
contented  in  Stillwick  ?  " 

"  Dear  Miss  Charlock !  We  must  make  up  our  minds 
to  leave  here ;  and  I  think  that  Stillwick  —  where  you 
live  —  is  just  next  door  to  heaven. " 

"No,  it  ain't.  It 's  next  door  to  a  very  common 
family.  Only,  there  's  always  two  sides;  and  the 
other  way,  with  a  beautiful  mile  of  woods  between  — 
is  the  Henslee  Place.  The  nearest  isn't  always  next, 
and  you  mayn't  always  be  next  to  what  you're  near 
est." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

EVENINGS    IN    CASINO    CRESCENT. 

THE  next  fortnight  in  Casino  Crescent  was  really  a 
very  happy  time.  It  was  a  transfer  of  the  best  that 
had  come  into  Estabel's  recent  life  to  a  yet  more  con 
genial  surrounding.  It  was  one  of  the  Gladmother's 
"moves"  —  the  moves  onward  which  are  ordered  and 
signified;  in  making  which  we  take  "the  whole  of  us." 

Aunt  Esther  went  back  to  Stillwick  on  the  Wednes 
day,  but  she  was  in  Topthorpe  again  twice  before  school 
broke  up  and  the  Clymers  sailed.  Cousin  Lucy  craved 
her  company,  and  much  of  her  sound,  encouraging 
advice. 

Things  were  greatly  altered  for  Miss  Henslee,  and 
plans  were  proposed  that  seemed  so  natural  and  fitting 
to  immediate  requirement  and  inclination,  that  she  was 
only  the  more  anxious  to  look  well  into  all  their  bear 
ings,  and  on  into  farther  results,  before  consenting  to 
present  pleasantness  and  relief.  That  was  Cousin  Lucy's 
way,  —  to  try  to  see  all  round,  and  before  and  after. 

"You  can't,"  Miss  Charlock  told  her.  "Your  eyes 
can  only  take  in  just  so  far,  and  just  so  deep,  and 
right  straight  along.  They  ain't  telescopes,  nor  micro 
scopes;  nor,  more  than  all,  they  ain't  set  in  the  back 
of  your  head.  They  're  only  meant  for  a  piece  at  a 
time,  and  to  see  it  plain." 

Which  greatly  supported  the  gentle  lady  in  her  lean 
ing  to  the  ready,  easy  decision.  It  was  settled  that 
the  brother  and  sister,  with  Harry,  of  course,  belong 
ing  almost  equally  to  both  of  them,  should  make  their 


EVENINGS  IN  CASINO   CRESCENT.         341 

summer  home  together  at  the  Old  Place,  and  spend  the 
winters,  in  like  manner,  here  in  Topthorpe. 

"It  will  throw  the  young  people  a  good  deal  to 
gether,  "  said  Miss  Lucy,  scrupulous  to  leave  nothing 
unsuggested  that  should  be  thought  of. 

"Best  possible  arrangement,"  returned  Mr.  Henslee 
explicitly.  "Propinquity  doesn't  work  all  one  way. 
Unsuitableness  is  as  quick  to  find  itself  out  as  the  other 
thing.  All  else  being  equal,  let  there  be  thorough 
opportunity,  and  ample  time  for  the  most  complete  un 
derstanding.  " 

Miss  Charlock  said  the  same  in  effect  differently. 

"Shaking  together  won't  make  contrary  ingrejients 
mix;  and  you  can't  mix  contraries  by  shaking  'em  to 
gether.  The  more  chance  you  give  folks,  the  more 
they  '11  settle  it  for  themselves." 

From  which  bit  of  conversation  it  appeared  that  no 
thing  in  the  family  plan  was  risked  blindly  by  the  con 
trolling  powers ;  as  plainly,  also,  that  nothing  in  the 
ordinary  possible  contingency  was  to  be  dreaded. 

No  word  of  this  had  ever  been  breathed  among  them 
before ;  but  in  the  converging  of  circumstance  that 
which  had  lain  latent  in  mind  or  event  came  thus  far 
forth  and  was  to  this  extent  recognized. 

Curiously,  however,  it  occurred  to  none  of  them  just 
now  that  more  than  two  elements  might  be  concerned 
in  their  experiment. 

Harry  was  jubilant.  Estabel  was  full  of  the  happiest 
content.  How  beautifully  everything  was  coming  to 
gether!  She  reproached  herself,  indeed,  with  being  too 
glad  when  kind  Aunt  Vera  was  going  away.  She  not 
only  went,  as  in  duty  bound  after  the  semi-apology,  to 
the  house  in  Mount  Street,  ignoring  impediment  with 
a  simple  grace  of  generous  tact,  but  she  spared  many 
busy  hours  there  to  help  Aunt  Vera,  hearing  her  plans, 
and  telling  her  of  the  Henslees'  delightful  arrangements, 
and  of  the  happy  summer  she  expected.  Of  the  Hawtrees 


342  SQUARE  PEGS. 

she  did  not  say  much;  she  let  the  fact  speak,  that  her 
happy  time  was  to  be  largely  so  in  making  these  simple 
friends  glad  likewise. 

Mrs.  Clymer  saw  excellent  opportunity  unfolding. 
Safe  in  Stillwick,  with  the  Henslees  at  the  Old  Place, 
a  summer  might  do  much.  She  had  a  comfortable  feel 
ing  of  having  played  into  the  hands  of  Providence. 

The  evenings  of  these  days  in  Casino  Crescent  were 
the  nicest  part  of  all.  Dr.  North  had  been  asked  to 
drop  in,  and  although  it  was  rather  a  long  drop  over 
from  West  Yarrow  Street,  he  came.  Mr.  Henslee  had 
found  him  thoroughly  likable,  and  held  out  to  him  a 
cordially  friendly  hand.  Ulick  had  a  certain  flickering 
doubt  of  his  own  wisdom,  but  justified  it  in  saying  to 
himself  that  a  man  wasn't  an  ostrich;  it  was  always 
best  to  see  things  as  they  were,  and  behave  accordingly. 
He  had  great  faith  in  his  own  strength  to  beat  away 
whatever  might  in  any  sort  threaten  his  manly  freedom. 
Perhaps  his  secret  instinct  at  this  time  was  to  test  him 
self ;  to  prove  to  himself  how  free,  thus  far,  he  really 
was.  It  would  be  an  absurdity  to  allow  that  there  was 
any  reason  for  him  not  to  go  to  the  Crescent,  and  to 
see  Estabel  there  a  few  times  before  their  meetings 
should  be  all  ended.  He  acknowledged  to  himself,  as 
he  had  done  from  the  beginning,  that  he  was  interested 
in  the  child;  in  her  way  of  looking  at  things.  It  was 
new  to  find  a  new  mind,  unbent  to  social  prejudice ;  but 
he  still  questioned  —  and  he  still  chose  to  believe  it  the 
mainspring  of  his  interest  —  how  far  the  drift  of  a  few 
years'  more  living  would  change  her  point  of  view. 

Just  now  she  was  very  eager  to  get  a  more  direct 
light  upon  an  order  of  things  in  which  it  seemed  to  her 
there  was  such  unfairness,  such  an  inequality  of  benefit 
where  many  were  endeavoring  together  to  one  end,  —  one 
man  having  simply  to  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  for 
the  multiplying  Fortunatus  coin,  and  with  that  control 
the  whole,  so  that  back  into  his  pocket  again  flowed  the 


EVENINGS  IN  CASINO  CRESCENT.         343 

unfailing  increase,  while  the  execution  of  all  plan,  the 
carrying  into  effect  by  skill  and  industry,  was  paid  for 
with  as  little  as  possible,  and  as  if  with  a  grudge.  "I 
should  think  everybody  ought  to  make  money,  that 
helps,"  she  said,  "whether  they  put  in  money,  or 
brains,  or  the  '  wise-hearted  work, '  like  the  Children  of 
Israel. " 

"  Estabel  always  goes  back  as  far  as  Exodus, "  said 
Harry,  laughing. 

"Don't  we  have  to  for  the  Commandments?"  she 
demanded,  and  then  they  both  laughed,  as  if  they  had 
a  certain  pleasure  in  their  little  oppositions,  which 
might  be  less  differences  than  understandings. 

Dr.  North  quietly  noted  this,  and  drew  this  infer 
ence  ;  it  was  part  of  his  investigation. 

"Money  earns  money,"  said  Mr.  Henslee.  "That  's 
the  vital  principle  of  finance.  The  able  financier  is  the 
man  who  makes  it  make  the  most." 

"It  doesn't  seem  as  if  it  ought  to  get  to  be  such 
a  separate  and  overbearing  thing,"  said  Estabel.  "I 
think  work  is  really  the  first  thing,  and  ought  to  be 
paid  first  —  and  best,  if  there  is  any  difference." 

"  Somebody  has  worked  to  get  the  money ;  then  he 
turns  round  and  works  with  that,  and  the  larger  pay 
comes  in  with  the  larger  power.  It  can't  be  helped. 
Money  is  motive  force ;  then  there  has  to  be  raw  mate 
rial,  and  machinery,  and  practical  management,  and 
skilled  and  common  labor,  all  of  which  money  com 
mands.  It  is  a  great  complication,  and  there  are  ne 
cessarily  some  hitches  in  all  human  affairs.  Everything 
doesn't  always  fall  together  or  turn  out  as  was  ex 
pected,  and  every  man  isn't  a  right-angled,  equilateral 
demonstration  of  conscience  and  judgment.  Things 
have  to  shake  down  into  such  system  as  they  can,  and 
people  must  do  the  best  they  can  in  the  conditions. 
The  world  might  be  better  than  it  is,  but  it  can't  come 
all  at  once." 


344  SQUAKE  PEGS. 

"What  is  a  'right-angled  equilateral?  '  "  asked  Harry 
mischievously,  thinking  of  triangles. 

"  Why,  a  square,  of  course, "  interposed  Estabel, 
while  Mr.  Henslee,  tripped  suddenly  hy  the  imputed 
trip,  said  nothing. 

"Thank  you,  Estabel.  Harry,  you  had  better  rub 
up  your  geometry." 

"Very  nearly  caught  you,  for  all  that,"  said  Harry, 
dexterously  turning  the  tables  to  his  own  recovery. 

Estabel  was  not  heeding  any  further.  She  had  spoken 
with  mechanical  literalness.  Her  mind  was  busy  with 
the  first  point  in  Mr.  Henslee 's  proposition,  the  axiom 
with  which  his  argument  had  started.  She  sat  silent, 
thinking  it  over. 

"Money  earns  money.  Money  is  worth  money." 
She  supposed  it  was ;  she  perceived  that  it  did ;  but 
when  people  had  enough  besides  —  and  yet,  there  came 
in  the  second  link  of  the  chain  of  reason.  How  did 
they  get  the  "besides,"  but  by  the  working  of  this  very 
rule  ?  Earn  a  little  and  make  that  earn  more.  Then 
double  it  up  again. 

She  knew  that  was  the  way  her  Uncle  Clymer  had 
done,  coming  up  from  moderate,  slow  beginnings ;  that 
was  all  right ;  she  could  see  no  flaw  in  the  line  of 
process.  But  at  the  point  of  enough  —  there  arose  an 
other  and  the  real  question,  that  she  could  not  settle. 
The  whole  struggle  of  the  world  is  to  settle  that,  and 
it  has  never  done  it  yet. 

When  Estabel  did  speak,  it  was  to  say  a  very  simple 
thing. 

"I  suppose  if  the  men  at  the  top  —  the  money  end 
—  of  the  line  didn't  want  so  much,  there  would  be 
more  to  go  all  the  way  down." 

The  three  gentlemen  laughed,  and  the  other  two 
women  looked  up. 

"That  hits  it,"  said  Mr.  Henslee.  "That  touches 
the  mainspring.  If  you  can  persuade  the  men  at  the 


EVENINGS  IN  CASINO  CRESCENT.         345 

top,  Estabel,  you  will  have  solved  the  whole  puzzle  of 
political  economy." 

"If  they  never  are  persuaded,  won't  things  grow 
worse  and  worse?  Won't  money  pile  up  until  a  few 
people  have  everything,  and  run  the  whole  world  their 
own  way  ?  " 

"That 's  the  tendency.  But  to  every  strong  ten 
dency  there  is  a  reactionary  force.  Here  and  there, 
things  are  always  righting  themselves.  Business  crashes 
come,  the  cards  are  more  or  less  shuffled,  and  there  's  a 
new  deal." 

"  Is  it  a  good  plan  to  depend  on  crashes  ?  " 

Dr.  North  laughed.  "'  Apres  nous,  le  deluge,'  "  he 
quoted. 

"That's  horrid!"  exclaimed  Estabel,  with  quick 
comprehension » 

"Nobody  wants  to  be  first  to  take  down  his  bit  of 
dam  and  empty  his  own  little  millpond.  And  dams 
there  have  to  be,  power  concentrated  to  carry  out  use." 

Mr.  Henslee  concentrated  his  phrasing,  with  his  new 
illustration;  it  served  him  suitably. 

"They  let  down  gates,  don't  they,  when  the  river's 
very  high?  "  asked  Estabel.  "They  don't  want  all  the 
water  in  their  own  mills." 

"Metaphors  always  come  to  an  end,"  said  Mr.  Hens- 
lee,  much  amused.  "And  sometimes  they  work  round 
to  the  opposite  illustration.  There  is  some  check  pro 
vided  against  any  excess,  as  I  said  before." 

"You  said  'crashes.'  Wouldn't  it  be  better  to 
regulate  beforehand  ?  If  everybody  would  stop  when 
they  had  got  enough,  and  let  somebody  else  have  the 
good  of  the  too  much.  That  was  what  /  said  before." 
Estabel  spoke  very  demurely  and  softly,  but  as  quite 
surely  and  clearly,  on  her  own  part,  returning  to  her 
point. 

"We  live  in  —  Topthorpe.  And  Topthorpe  —  stand 
ing  pretty  fairly  for  all  the  other  thorpes  —  isn't  ready 


346  SQUARE  PEGS. 

to  be  decapitated.  There  are  too  many  heads  for  one 
axe.  You  couldn't  persuade — or  convince  —  all  the 
men  at  the  top,  Estabel." 

" Somebody  will  have  to  begin,"  she  pursued,  thought 
fully.  "Maybe  a  good  many  that  we  don't  know  of 
are  beginning,  after  all;  and  that's  why  only  a  few 
people  are  frightfully  rich.  I  don't  think  it  ought  to 
be  so  much  credit  to  anybody  to  have  heaps  of  money. 
It  would  be  better  to  have  a  rule  of  give-away,  like 
that  game  of  cards,  Harry,  we  played  the  other  night, 
when  every  trick  you  took  beyond  an  average  counted 
one  against  you." 

"Such  a  game  as  that  suits  the  poor  hands  best," 
Harry  remarked. 

"Of  course,  they  get  out  of  it  the  easiest.  But  the 
cleverness  —  the  satisfaction  —  the  thing  we  play  for 
—  is  to  work  off  the  big  cards  so  as  not  to  be  left  with 
too  many  in  our  own  pile." 

Again  there  was  a  general  laugh.  "Utopia!  "  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Henslee. 

"  It  ought  to  have  been  Utopia  by  this  time,  I  think, " 
Estabel  replied  to  that ;  "  if  they  had  begun  when  they 
were  first  told  about  the  two  coats,  and  when  they  were 
shown  how  the  seven  loaves  were  enough  to  go  round." 

Nobody  laughed  then,  or  answered.  "You  certainly 
have  the  last  word,  now, "  said  Dr.  North.  His  eyes 
smiled  upon  her  and  he  spoke  gently. 

"No.  It  was  the  first.  And  I  don't  see  how  there 
can  be  two  different  rules  about  it,  or  how  it  should  be 
a  law  that  water  should  find  its  own  level,  and  money 
not." 

"Wait  till  the  money  floods  up  your  way,"  sug 
gested  Harry  Henslee. 

"I  suppose  I  had  better,"  Estabel  acquiesced  ingen 
uously.  And  the  merry  mockery  in  Harry's  face  gave 
place  to  a  flash  of  proud  pleasure. 

"In  the  meantime,    we'll  play  checkers,"   he  said. 


EVENINGS  IN  CASINO  CRESCENT.         347 

"And   it   shall   be   gobble-up   or  give-away,    whichever 
you  like  best." 

He  brought  the  pretty  inlaid  table  with  its  squares  of 
ebony  and  pearl,  and  Dr.  North  got  up  and  took  his 
leave. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

MORNING    SUNSHINE. 

WE  live  in  episodes.  Life  is  a  story,  with  sequel 
after  sequel.  But  as  each  volume  closes,  we  say 
"Finis,"  and  think  it  is  all  told.  We  come  to  a  cli 
max,  and  the  "ever  after  "  takes  its  color  and  is  summed 
up  as  inclusive  consequence. 

The  young  do  this,  especially.  "The  thoughts  of 
youth  are  long,  long  thoughts ;  "  but  it  is  most  apt  to 
be  so  in  mere  extension  of  the  present.  Now  is  long; 
it  projects  itself  into  the  future.  Immediate  surround 
ing  seems  almost  impossible  of  break;  it  is  the  final 
solution  of  all  preceding  breaks  and  changes.  Also, 
the  now  is  deep ;  that  way  the  young  thought  measures 
it  with  a  long  sounding  line.  It  grasps  a  more  interior, 
vital  meaning  than  older  earthly  experience  often  can, 
in  all  that  arrives  to  and  affects  it.  Everything  is  in 
tense  with  significance,  quick  with  an  instinct  of  per 
petuity.  "Your  heart  shall  live  forever;"  youth  be 
lieves  it,  and  identifies  its  heart  with  present  feeling 
and  circumstance,  making  these  eternal. 

With  Estabel  everything  seemed  to  have  "turned 
out."  They  were  all  back  in  Stillwick;  back  there, 
having  brought  with  them  the  gain  of  the  absence  and 
interruption.  Her  happy  feeling  about  it  found  gleeful 
expression  in  the  old  rhyme  she  sang,  as  she  moved 
briskly  about  Aunt  Esther's  rooms  in  the  mornings, 
with  duster  and  brush ;  not  so  much  removing  that 
which  was  scarcely  suffered  to  rest  or  gather,  as,  accord- 


MORNING  SUNSHINE.  349 

ing  to  her  own  way  of  stating,    "putting  the  polish  on 
to  things." 

"I  hate  to  dust  real  dust,"  she  said;  "but  when 
there  is  n't  any,  it 's  so  pleasant  to  feel  it  over  and 
make  sure. " 

So  she  went  around,  smiling  and  humming,  and  every 
now  and  then  breaking  out  into  the  words  of  "Little 
Bo-Peep." 

"  She  lost  her  sheep, 
And  did  n't  know  where  to  find  'em  ; 
So  she  let  'em  alone,  and  they  all  came  home, 
And  brought  their  tails  behind  'em  !  " 

The  mornings  lengthened  toward  midsummer.  The 
sun  grew  hot  upon  the  pastures ;  the  woods  were  fra 
grant,  the  birds  sang  softly  in  their  home  content ;  it 
was  so  sweet  and  quiet  in  garden  and  orchard  that  the 
sounds  of  pick  and  hammer  and  the  clank  of  iron  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away  over  the  gravel  ledge,  where  the 
railroad  was  being  leveled  and  laid,  only  touched  upon 
the  margin  of  an  undisturbed  peace  and  accentuated  it. 

The  Gladmother,  in  the  two  rooms  that  had  been 
given  her  —  those  on  the  westerly  side,  of  which  the 
front  one,  that  had  been  Estabel's,  served  her  as  a  sit 
ting-room,  either  being  by  itself  too  small  for  all  her 
use  and  very  constant  occupation  —  was  blessedly  at 
home. 

The  two  young  girls  had  the  two  corresponding  oppo 
site  chambers,  and  Aunt  Esther  established  herself 
cheerfully  in  the  bedroom  behind  the  shop,  "handy  to 
housekeeping  and  trade, "  which  she  had  only  not  occu 
pied  regularly  before  because  she  would  not  leave  Es- 
tabel  alone  upstairs.  As  to  further  need,  there  was 
none.  Since  business  and  family  had  both  enlarged, 
Miss  Charlock  had  employed  a  woman  of  the  village  to 
come  in  for  day  service ;  resident  assistance  she  would 
not  have.  "I  should  not  feel  as  if  my  home  was  my 
own, "  she  said. 


350  SQUARE  PEGS. 

So  the  broad,  low  roof  of  the  little  cottage  covered 
them  all  in  to  a  happy  comfort,  and  there  was  no  fur 
ther  immediate  talk  of  "building  on." 

"They  'd  better  see  at  first  start  that  they  can  be 
here  as  well  as  not,"  Aunt  Esther  told  Estabel.  "Af 
terward  we  can  have  whatever  we  all  take  a  notion  to 
—  that 's  consistent." 

The  Gladmother's  dormer  window,  as  the  sun  came 
round  southward,  took  in  the  sifted,  flickering  shafts 
of  light  that  shot  through  the  changing  spaces  of  the 
waving  elm  boughs,  and  flashed  them  into  separated, 
dancing  jewel  rays  through  the  dear  refracting  crystals, 
hung  in  the  little  alcove,  that  with  its  raised  dais  gave 
pleasant  access  for  the  dooryard  outlook. 

At  the  west  side  a  gable  window  of  comfortable  di 
mension,  whose  blinds  were  thrown  wide  all  the  morn 
ing,  and  in  the  afternoon  bowed  out  with  primitive  de 
vice  of  hook  and  staple,  opened  toward  the  field  and 
garden  intervals  between  the  few  near  houses,  and  the 
farther  bend  of  the  roadway  where  it  came  round  upon 
the  bridge.  Held  in  this  loop  of  highway,  and  sloping 
to  the  river,  clustered  the  green  trees  and  mounds  and 
white  stones  of  the  old  Stillwick  graveyard.  The  morn 
ing  light  lay  beautiful  upon  them  always,  and  at  even 
ing  the  rich  sunset  glow  slanted  through  the  boughs  of 
fir  and  willow,  and  showed  in  far,  clear  spaces  like 
calm  lakes  of  heaven. 

"The  shining  and  the  life  are  everywhere!  They 
can't  be  got  away  from.  There  was  never  anybody 
dead !  " 

Lilian  said  it  out  of  her  own  fresh  joy,  phrasing 
from  her  clairvoyant  spirit  that  to  which  in  the  Glad- 
mother's  eyes  it  answered  as  she  came  into  the  room 
one  still  but  buoyant-breathing  morning  with  her  usual 
loving  inquiry  and  offered  service,  and  found  the  gentle 
dame  already  dressed  and  sitting  in  her  armchair  by 
the  open  sash. 


MORNING  SUNSHINE.  351 

The  girl  had  followed  with  quick  glance  the  happy 
look,  and  overtook  it  where  it  rested  upon  the  bright- 
bathed,  white-gleaming  groups  of  simple  headstones  that 
marked  the  places  where  they  who  through  generations 
had  peopled  the  busy,  growing  little  town  were  gathered 
—  children  to  fathers,  fathers  to  children  —  in  one 
small,  gree^  field. 

Yes ;  the  shining  and  the  life  were  there  also ;  the 
birds  nested  and  sang  in  the  safe  inclosure ;  the  grass 
waved,  and  the  daisies  bloomed ;  it  was  not  a  desert  of 
the  dead ;  death  can  nowhere  assert  itself ;  it  is  swal 
lowed  up  in  the  victory  of  endless  being. 

White  stones  in  the  field  for  name  and  for  remem 
brance,  here ;  elsewhere,  in  the  heart  of  the  life  whose 
great  pulse  beats  out  to  the  farthest  reach  of  its  gift 
in  humblest  initial  form  —  the  small  white  stone  of  the 
new  name,  and  the  new  nourishing  of  the  hidden  manna. 

"'  The  glory  of  the  Lord  comes  by  the  way  of  the 
East,'"  said  the  lovely  old  lady.  "But  it  spreads 
away  over.  I  don't  mind  not  having  an  east  window; 
I  like  to  look  along  the  path  of  the  sunrise,  and  see  the 
lighting  up.  It  all  comes  in  here  later,  one  side  after 
the  other,  and  makes  the  place  splendid.  But  this  is 
the  beginning,  so  sweet  and  fresh  and  gentle.  It  is  the 
waking  up  of  the  world ;  the  promise  that  is  new  every 
day;  the  resurrection  that  goes  round  and  round.  '  He 
turneth  the  shadow  of  death  into  the  morning. '  No ; 
there  isn't  anybody  dead.  Not  anybody  has  been  put 
away  out  of  it.  They  have  only  gone  further  into  the 
glory;  they  are  all  awake,  and  they  '  walk  in  the  light 
of  the  living. '  '  Surely,  goodness  and  mercy  shall  fol 
low  us  all  the  days  of  our  life,  and  we  shall  dwell  in 
the  house  of  the  Lord  forever.'  They  are  such  com 
pany  for  me,  Lilian  —  those  people  who  have  lived 
round  here,  and  who  are  alive,  more  than  they  ever 
were.  They  tell  me  wonderful  things.  I  never  knew 
one  of  them,  and  yet  I  feel  as  if  I  knew  them  all." 


352  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"And  now  you  must  have  your  breakfast,"  Lilian 
said.  "And,  oh,  Gladmother!  I've  such  a  beautiful 
thought  for  a  bonnet !  " 

"That,  too,  comes  of  the  morning,"  answered  the 
Gladmother  with  a  smile.  There  was  no  forced  transition 
for  her,  no  incongruousness,  either  way.  Nobody  had 
ever  to  make  solemn  gap  between  words  of  world  and 
other  world  for  her.  It  was  all  one.  She  had  promise 
of  the  now  is,  and  of  the  is  to  come.  It  was  all  come. 
It  was  the  kingdom  at  hand.  That  was  her  gospel. 

So  by  and  by  Lilian  brought  up  her  pretty  work,  and 
sat  with  her  while  she  finished  it. 

It  was  a  bonnet  of  white  chip.  Inside  the  brim, 
which  poked  a  little,  was  a  narrow  shirring  of  pale 
green  crape,  of  which  the  frill  behind  was  also  made, 
with  lining  to  each  of  fair,  glistening  silk.  On  the 
top,  outside,  between  crown  and  brim,  lay  two  half 
blown  water  lilies,  resting  among  dark  green  pads  that 
spread  either  way,  lifting  their  curled  edges  that  showed 
under  sides  of  rose  color.  And  from  among  them 
dropped  the  long  ovals  of  smooth  buds,  just  betraying 
a  line  of  white  between  pink  lips.  The  stems  were 
coiled  around  the  crown,  and  gathered  at  the  back  with 
a  knot  of  satin  ribbon,  dark  like  the  lily  pads,  blending 
and  contrasting  at  once  with  the  pale  shimmer  of  the 
silk  and  crape. 

"  That  is  instead  of  the  Alsatian  bow, "  said  Lilian, 
touching  the  graceful  top-cluster  with  a  little  air  of  tri 
umph.  "It  has  the  mechanical  effect,  and  it  means 
a  great  deal  more." 

"  Do  your  customers  appreciate  ?  "  asked  the  Glad- 
mother. 

"Why,  yes  —  approximately.  This  has  been  spoken 
for  already.  It  is  for  Miss  Julia  Thornil.  She  was 
here  just  now,  before  I  came  up.  She  wanted  something 
cool  and  fresh  for  a  garden  party.  I  showed  her  what 
I  was  doing  and  had  planned,  and  she  was  enchanted. 


MORNING  SUNSHINE.  353 

Really,  it  does  just  suit  her,  with  her  creamy-pale  com 
plexion  and  her  sunny-colored  hair.  '  Don't  make  one 
for  anybody  else,'  she  said." 

"  And  did  you  promise  that  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Lilian  again,  turning  the  bonnet 
on  her  little  fist,  and  looking  at  it  all  about  with  de 
mure  satisfaction.  "I  told  her  that  I  never  made  two 
things  alike ;  I  tried  to  have  a  new  idea  for  everybody, 
or  else  people  wouldn't  have  any  pleasure  in  admiring 
each  other." 

The  Gladmother  laughed.  "Did  she  appreciate 
that  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  She  only  said  she  should  think  the 
ideas  would  give  out  sometimes.  I  told  her,  no,  the 
world  was  full  of  them ;  and  then  I  showed  her  what  I 
had  done  for  Dolly  Payne,  all  in  a  drift  of  white,  with 
white  ribbons,  and  a  bunch  of  rosy  arbutus  peeping  up 
from  out  of  the  snow." 

"You  little  witch !      And  then  what  ?  " 

"She  stared,  and  screamed.  And  presently  she  asked 
me  if  the  pond  lilies  didn't  look  rather  big  and  coarse 
in  comparison.  '  Well,  if  you  compare, '  I  said ;  '  but 
you  see  we  never  think  of  that  when  pond  lilies  come; 
they  each  have  their  place  and  turn.'  I  didn't  tell 
her  that  Dolly  Payne  was  just  as  dainty  and  delicate, 
contrasted  with  her,  as  the  mayflower  is  with  the  lilies. 
I  don't  think  she  would  have  understood  how  they  could 
both  be  beautiful  in  their  way,  though  they  don't  grow 
alike  or  together.  I  wish  people  would  just  take  their 
selves  as  they  are  given  to  them,  and  be  glad  that  there 
are  other  selves  to  finish  out  the  lovely  possibles.  Glad- 
mother!  I'm  going  to  make  and  paint  some  autumn 
leaves  and  some  holly  for  Christmas,  and  snowdrops 
and  buttercups  for  next  spring,  and  poppies  and  sweet 
peas  for  summer,  and  —  don't  tell  anybody!  some  hops 
and  some  potato  blossoms !  Do  you  know  what  a  pretty 
pale  lavender  and  gold  they  are  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

MISSING. 

THERE  were  only  two  discontents  —  and  one  of  these 
was  but  an  uncontent  —  in  those  beautiful  first  summer 
months  at  Stillwick. 

Harry  Henslee,  who  with  his  father  spent  all  his 
Sundays  and  holidays  —  these  last  including  three  weeks 
of  vacation  as  he  might  choose  to  take  them  —  at  Hens- 
lee  Place,  and  to  whom  the  woodland  path  between  that 
and  the  little  village  house  was  but  an  easy  and  most 
perfect  link  joining  the  two  homes  in  the  completeness 
and  privileged  isolation  of  one  —  found  everything  de 
lightful  save  a  single  only  circumstance,  against  which 
he  openly  and  resentfully  rebelled. 

Why  should  Lilian  Hawtree  make  bonnets  ? 

Why  should  all  Peaceport  and  half  of  Topthorpe  be 
hearing  of  her  as  the  inspired  little  milliner,  and  de 
manding  her  inspirations  for  their  dollars  ?  Why  should 
they  take  careless  credit  for  having  found  her  out,  and 
ask  each  other,  as  the  last  little  knowing  password  of 
an  exclusive  fashion,  "  Have  you  got  a  Hawtree  ?  " 

"It  is  detestable,"  he  told  Estabel. 

"Why?  Any  more  than  if  it  were  a  Hawtree  pic 
ture  or  a  sculpture  ?  " 

"Because  they  put  it  on  their  heads,  and  admire 
their  own  taste  and  cleverness  and  setting  off.  Because 
they  think  they  patronize  her,  and  distinguish  them 
selves,  and  that  all  she  does  it  for  is  the  money.  Be 
cause  she  wasn't  made  for  that  sort  of  thing.  I  wish 
you  'd  put  a  stop  to  it." 


MISSING.  355 

"You  know  I  can't.  It  's  all  between  her  and  Aunt 
Esther.  And  it  makes  Lilian  happy;  and  I  think  it 
is  really  beautiful.  Don't  be  a  snob,  Harry." 

"It  isn't  being  a  snob  not  to  want  her  to  pander  to 
snobbery." 

"She  doesn't."  And  then  Estabel  told  him  of 
Lilian's  answer  to  Miss  Thornil;  and  she  quoted  George 
Herbert.  "Whatever  she  does,  Harry,  she  '  makes 
that  and  the  action  fine. '  ' 

"I  'd  rather  she  'd  sweep  rooms,  though.  She  could 
keep  that  more  to  herself. " 

"She  doesn't  want  to  keep  anything  to  herself. 
That  's  the  fineness.  And  I  don't  see  what  it  is  to 
you,  Harry." 

"Of  course  not.  If  it  were  at  all  my  business,  I 
should  prevent  it.  That  's  why  I  have  to  ask  you." 

The  uncontent  was  Estabel' s. 

In  her  "ever  after"  there  was  still  something  want 
ing,  though  she  paused  in  the  immediate  content,  and 
perhaps  knew  not  how  to  analyze  it  thoroughly,  or  to 
detect  the  insufficiency. 

She  missed  something,  not  precisely  conscious  how 
much,  or  through  what  most  vital  need  of  her  nature : 
a  keen,  direct,  uncompromising  judgment,  external  to 
her  own,  by  which  she  had  learned  to  measure  herself, 
and  things  about  her;  a  criticism,  a  difficult  but  pos 
sible  approval,  to  which  she  involuntarily  looked,  out 
of  which,  even  though  sometimes  against  her  will,  she 
made  motive ;  a  presence  that  stimulated  her,  that  she 
at  once  welcomed,  stood  on  her  defense  before,  honored, 
and  feared. 

Dr.  North  never  came  to  Stillwick.  Of  course,  he 
could  not  leave  his  patients.  His  life  was  there  in 
Topthorpe;  summer  and  winter  he  went  its  round. 
Mr.  Henslee  had  asked  him  to  give  himself  a  half  holi 
day  now  and  then,  and  run  down  to  the  Place.  But 
the  Place  was  off  the  track.  It  involved  a  drive  from 


356  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Peaceport,  and  a  sending  him  back  to  his  return  train, 
as  had  been  offered.  All  this  trouble  it  was  not  like 
Ulick  North  to  take  or  give.  And  why  should  he  come 
to  Henslee  Place  ?  What  was  likely  to  be  going  on 
there  that  he  could  meddle  with?  His  business,  he 
thought,  was  to  stay  away. 

Yet  he,  too,  missed  something  that  he  had  grown 
accustomed  to,  and  that  he  did  not  like  to  accuse  him 
self  of  missing.  He  said  to  himself  that  it  all  meant 
only  broken  habit.  A  man  who  has  a  routine,  whose 
variations  are  but  a  side  groove  or  two,  feels  uncomfort 
ably  an  interruption  or  a  shunting  off.  He  has  to  take 
the  pains  of  initiating  some  new  opening  or  construc 
tion,  or  subside  into  a  lessened  round  and  order.  This 
last  was  what  Dr.  North  was  doing. 

The  summer  time  made  matters  worse.  "Summer 
was  always  dull, "  he  said  in  accounting  to  himself. 
There  were  no  oratorios ;  there  was  no  acting  that  was 
worth  while.  Artists,  singers,  preachers  even  —  every 
body  —  all  were  off,  resting,  pleasuring.  A  poor  doctor 
must  just  stick  by.  People  were  dying  all  the  same ; 
their  souls  might  wait  for  saving,  but  their  bodies 
could  n't. 

So  he  would  take  a  stretch  across  Old  Park,  or  walk 
down  Clover  Street  to  see  the  sunset  across  the  river, 
and  then  back  to  his  little  rooms  and  a  smoke.  In 
these  processes  place  was  made  for  all  the  more  query 
ing  and  thinking.  They  tell  us  of  unconscious  cerebra 
tion.  There  are  other  organs  —  or  forces  that  bodily 
organs  typify  —  that  work  in  secret  and  develop  their 
results.  All  at  once,  when  we  think  we  have  been  idle 
or  asleep,  we  wake  and  spring,  to  confront  them  full- 
formed  and  grown. 

A  thought  occurred  to  our  doctor  one  day,  which 
suddenly  reversed  his  mental  attitude.  He  had  been 
making  it  his  business  to  stay  away  from  Stillwick,  as 
if  against  some  hidden  suspicion  of  himself  of  which  he 


MISSING.  357 

would  not  face  conviction ;  which  he  would  disprove, 
rather,  by  a  sort  of  negative  evidence.  Now,  strolling 
slowly,  thoughtfully,  down  Clover  Street  as  the  evening 
deepened  after  a  hot,  weary  day,  he  came  to  the  corner 
where  he  had  found  Estabel  that  day  the  carpenter  had 
died. 

He  looked  over  to  the  windows  she  had  watched. 
Gay  curtains  of  turkey-red  and  cheap  lace-muslin  filled 
the  casements  where  the  ferns  had  been,  and  stirred  in 
the  slow  air  that  drifted  through  the  open  sashes.  A 
piano  tinkled  vulgarly. 

And  then  the  sudden  thought  struck  him  that  shifted 
his  point  of  view.  Ought  he  not,  at  least  once,  have 
gone  to  Stillwick  to  learn  how  it  fared  with  the  good 
old  lady,  his  friend  and  patient  ?  What  could  it  mat 
ter,  as  to  that,  who  else  was  there  —  or  what  might  be 
going  on  in  the  pleasant  country  life  that  young  and 
old,  so  closely  conjoined  in  their  companionship,  might 
there  be  living? 

The  negative  needed  proving  on  the  other  side. 

Was  he  afraid  of  going  and  finding  out  ? 

He  stopped  under  a  street  lamp,  and  pulled  out  his 
watch,  as  if  it  would  tell  him  at  what  next  hour  a  train 
would  serve  for  Peaceport. 

"To-morrow  afternoon  will  do,"  he  said,  as  he  put  it 
back  ajrain. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

FATHER    AND    SON. 

THE  next  day  was  Saturday. 

The  counting-house  was  to  he  closed  early.  It  was, 
after  a  few  busy  forenoon  hours,  a  leisure  day  for  Mr. 
Henslee,  and  Harry  shared  its  privilege.  He  shared 
most  things  with  his  father  now. 

For  the  last  year,  or  nearly  so,  he  had  had  a  desk  in 
that  inner  office  where  the  elder  Harrison  Henslee  had 
sat  so  many  years  alone,  transacting  the  great  business 
which  had  made  his  single  name  so  strong. 

The  young  man's  apprenticeship  with  Blunt  and 
Sterne  was  over.  In  October  he  would  be  twenty-one, 
and  then  the  firm  style  here  was  to  be  changed  to 
"Henslee  and  Henslee."  The  head  of  the  house  would 
not  have  it  "Henslee  and  Son."  The  "son  "/was  the 
private,  personal,  dear  relationship.  Before  the  world 
he  wished  his  boy  to  stand,  now  that  he  was  a  full  man, 
in  a  man's  place,  on  an  absolute  level  with  himself.  It 
should  be  Henslee  and  Henslee,  until  it  had  to  be  Har 
rison  Henslee  again;  and  he  hoped  that  afterward  there 
would  be  another  boy  who  should  have  been  bred  up  and 
waited  for,  in  turn,  to  take  place  in  like  manner  in  the 
old,  honored  concern. 

The  elder  Harrison  Henslee  was  very  happy  this 
summer,  in  his  looking  forward  to  that  which,  so  long 
planned,  was  now  so  near. 

They  were  driving  down  together,  through  the  sweet 
woods,  and  along  the  sea  opens,  to  an  early  dinner  at 
Henslee  Place.  They  took  the  long  road  round  by  the 
north  into  Stillwick.  They  went  leisurely,  as  was 


FATHER  AND  SON.  359 

pleasant  both  for  men  and  beast ;  the  two  in  the  com 
fortable  low  buggy  had  plenty  to  say  to  each  other  in 
these  long  drives.  The  handsome  creature  in  the  shafts 
had  his  meditation  and  enjoyment ;  he  threw  up  his 
head,  and  dilated  his  nostrils,  taking  in  his  share  of  the 
beauty  and  deliciousness  of  the  way.  He  was  a  fine 
animal,  capable  of  a  moderate  motion  that  was  yet  not 
lazy;  he  lifted  his  feet  with  clear  elasticity,  and  put 
them  down  with  vigorous  purpose,  whether  his  pace 
were  measured  to  a  slowed  or  accelerated  time.  He 
gave  the  sense  of  getting  over  the  ground  with  unslack- 
ened  intent,  even  if  only  on  a  walk.  Behind  such  a 
horse,  conversation  or  reflection  may  be  complacently 
indulged  in. 

The  ocean  breeze  swept  inland  for  miles,  making  its 
cool  fringe  to  the  mantle  of  heat  that  lay  upon  the 
westward  farms  and  gardens.  In  this  border,  up  and 
down,  people  might  travel,  even  at  midday,  with  a 
comfort  and  refreshing  keen  and  sweet. 

"  What  is  the  programme  for  this  afternoon  ?  Down 
through  the  woods,  as  usual,  eh  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Henslee. 

"I  believe  so,"  answered  Harry.  "Estabel  and  I 
have  agreed  to  go  over  the  river,  to  the  Big  Rocks,  to 
get  some  early  goldenrod  that  grows  in  a  place  we  know 
of  in  the  Farnum  pasture.  Miss  Hawtree  wants  it  for 
copy." 

I  think  Harry  added  this  last  bit  for  the  sake  of 
absolute  frankness,  perhaps  even  with  himself.  But 
then,  frankness  is  sometimes  the  most  effectual  blind. 

"I  asked  because  I  think  I  must  have  you  back  by  five. 
MacLinn  is  coming  over  to  look  at  the  old  shipyard 
property.  I  want  you  to  see  him.  —  Estabel  Charlock 
is  a  fine  girl,  Harry.  She  shows  it  in  this  indepen 
dent  friendship  of  hers.  She  is  a  girl,  too,  who  can 
carry  her  independence  and  compel  countenance,  if  she 
is  only  given  room  for  free  action.  I  don't  think  she 
was  exactly  in  her  own  best  place  in  Mount  Street." 


360  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Perhaps  not,"  Harry  answered  briefly.  It  was  not 
precisely  on  this  side  of  Estabel's  character  that  he 
could  he  enthusiastic.  Possibly  Mr.  Henslee  touched 
it  on  this  side  purposely  to  incline  it  into  its  finest 
light. 

And  then,  as  if  his  brevity  might  be  too  marked, 
Harry  added  with  a  good-humored  laugh,  "Her  own 
best  place  doesn't  seem  to  be  quite  easy  to  find.  She  's 
such  an  awful  little  radical,  you  know." 

Was  this  tentative  ?  How  much  of  personal  interest 
and  question  might  it  mean  ?  Was  her  radicalism  in 
Harry's  way,  possibly  —  or  was  she  in  her  own  light 
with  him  because  of  it? 

"She  is  pretty  apt,  though,  to  be  radically  right," 
said  Mr.  Henslee. 

"That 's  the  worst  of  it.  She  can't  wait,  and  she 
can't  tolerate.  I  'm  not  finding  fault  with  her,  though. 
I  should  contradict  anybody  who  did.  She  's  high  and 
grand." 

Mr.  Henslee  could  not  altogether  make  him  out.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  the  boy  had  not  yet  made 
himself  out.  He  knew  better  than  to  hurry  him.  That 
would  probably  avail  only  to  make  him  find  himself  out 
wrong.  So  he  merely  said,  "All  that  will  wear  off  —  the 
intolerance,  I  mean.  The  high  quality  itself  will  take 
care  of  that.  I  like  her,  and  I  feel  very  sure  of  her." 

He  made  a  move  to  change  the  subject,  mentioning 
MacLinn  again.  But  Harry,  rather  curiously,  followed 
up  the  other  lead. 

"Yes;  we  know  her,  and  we  like  her,"  he  said. 
"Other  people  would,  perhaps,  if  she  liked  them.  But 
she  is  queer  and  difficult.  She  despises  society.  That 
doesn't  do  in  Topthorpe,  you  know." 

He  laughed,  and  gave  a  side  glance  at  his  father,  as 
if  covertly  solicitous  for  the  effect  upon  him  of  these 
words. 

Again,  Mr.  Henslee  could  not  be  quite  certain  how 


FATHER  AND  SON.  361 

much,  or  in  what  sort  and  relation,  this  manner  of  the 
boy's  might  mean.  But  he  returned  glance  and  answer 
with  entire  directness.  "Her  elective  instincts  are 
keen,"  he  said.  "She  will  always  choose  the  best,  and 
never  be  satisfied  otherwise.  This  makes  her  odd,  at 
first,  in  her  rejections  and  appropriations ;  but  I  will 
venture  a  prophecy  that  by  and  by  —  if  her  life  has  full 
chance  —  she  will  be  a  head  and  centre  of  some  very 
marked  social  power. " 

"You  have  thought  a  good  deal  about  her.  I  did 
not  know  you  had  noticed  her  so  much." 

Mr.  Henslee  laughed.  "Old  folks  notice  a  great 
deal  more  — •  and  look  farther  on  —  than  young  people 
imagine.  We  are  given  to  projecting  futures  for  them, 
and  anticipating  their  probabilities,  in  the  light  of  our 
own  past.  We  put  ourselves  back  to  a  starting-point  like 
theirs,  as  we  see  it,  and  live  on  with  them,  as  we  think 
they  might  live  on ;  perhaps  with  less  allowance  for 
miscarriage  than  our  own  mistakes  would  justify.  Your 
Aunt  Lucy  is  very  fond  of  Estabel ;  she  would  like  to 
claim  a  good  deal  of  her  if  other  rights  did  not  come 
first.  Now,  especially.  She  wants  to  have  her  with 
us  next  winter.  So  I  naturally  think  about  her.  I  've 
always  missed  not  having  a  daughter,  Harry."  And 
after  a  pause,  he  said,  "I  only  hope  that  other  aunt  in 
Europe  won't  take  it  into  her  flighty  head  to  send  for 
her.  I  suppose  we  couldn't  make  any  opposition  to 
that." 

And  then  Mr.  Henslee  did  turn  the  conversation  with 
excellent  discretion. 

The  talk  had  been  unpremeditated ;  but  unpremedi 
tated  talk,  like  extemporaneous  public  speaking,  grows 
out  of  much  that  has  taken  mental  shape  from  pretty 
thorough  preceding  consideration.  Just  the  very  par 
ticulars  had  been  touched  that  Mr.  Henslee  would  have 
desired  should  be  suggested,  and  this  with  an  actual 
spontaneity  which  he  would  not  invalidate  by  persistence. 


362  SQUARE  PEGS. 

He  spoke  energetically  of  the  new  business  plans. 

"  We  will  build  a  line  of  vessels  for  our  South  Ameri 
can  trade,"  he  said;  "light  draught  clippers  for  quick 
and  frequent  voyages;  no  long  delays  in  lightering. 
We  '11  gradually  replace  our  heavier  old  craft.  That 's 
my  plan;  and  MacLinn  is  the  right  man  for  us.  I  can 
rely  on  him,  and  he  knows  that  my  work  means  his 
future.  He  shall  take  the  ship-yard  and  build  for  us ; 
we  will  have  a  branch  house  of  our  own  down  there; 
Fessenden  shall  go  out  to  represent  the  firm ;  that  will 
make  up  to  him  for  not  being  taken  in  here.  He  un 
derstands,  of  course,  that  the  first  place  has  been  kept 
for  you,  and  yet  he  deserves  promotion,  and  a  share. 
So  that  will  be  all  right ;  and  —  unless  it  should  inter 
fere  undesirably  otherwise  —  I  think  it  might  be  well 
for  you  to  go  out  for  one  voyage,  and  get  the  knowledge 
of  the  handling  at  that  end.  We  shall  have  a  good 
deal  to  think  of,  and  to  decide,  for  you  —  for  both 
of  us,  together  —  this  coming  year.  It  will  be  an  im 
portant  time  for  you  in  every  way.  Your  life  will 
begin  to  take  permanent  shape.  Much  you  must  deter 
mine  for  yourself,  but  you  may  remember  that  I  always 
stand  ready  to  help  you  to  the  best,  where  it  rests  at 
all  with  me.  I  should  like  to  see  you  settled  early, 
Harry." 

All  this  touched  Harry  strongly.  "Us "  —  "our 
business  "  —  the  words  expressed  such  generous  pride 
and  joy  in  sharing,  in  recognition  of  his  son's  manhood 
and  bestowing  upon  him  its  rights  —  that  an  answering 
joy  and  pride,  with  an  earnest  gratitude,  stirred  the 
youth's  spirit  to  the  degree  of  a  controlling  desire  to 
meet  his  father's  wish  in  everything.  At  that  moment 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  leave  his  life  to  sucli 
direction  and  foresight  as  grew  from  open-hearted  love 
and  wise  experience  like  these.  Harry  Henslee's  nature 
was  one  easily  moulded  to  his  environment.  He  was 
apt,  in  most  things,  to  take  his  world  as  he  found  it, 


FATHER  AND   SON.  363 

and  to  find  it  pretty  good.      He  certainly  would  never 
be  comfortable  in  quarreling  with  it. 

"We  '11  have  a  vessel  on  the  stocks  with  little  delay," 
said  Mr.  Henslee.  "MacLinn  has  excellent  notions 
for  combining  the  best  speed  and  capacity,  and  he  will 
have  everything  to  his  hand.  Another  winter  —  but 
we  won't  look  ahead  as  far  as  that  quite  yet.  Be 
thinking  of  a  name,  Harry.  A  vessel's  name  is  half 
her  character  at  the  start.  It  '11  be  fine  to  have  a 
launching  at  the  old  place,  won't  it?  We'll  break  a 
bottle  of  the  best,  boy !  " 

Mr.  Henslee  shook  the  reins,  and  imparted  some 
superfluous  impulse  to  the  noble  roadster,  who  shook  his 
mane  in  response,  and  launched  out  on  his  own  part 
valiantly. 

Harry  saw  the  look  in  his  father's  face  that  it  wore 
when  he  was  happily  and  proudly  stirred.  Eyes  level- 
fronted,  reaching  into  distance,  luminous  with  a  suf 
fused  moisture  which  the  raised  brows  seemed  lifted  to 
restrain,  lips  curved  and  all  but  tremulous  —  the  ambi 
tion,  affection,  fulfillment  of  heart  purpose  and  desire, 
and  the  self-containing  that  kept  all  within  calm,  staid 
limit  —  it  was  the  aspect  in  which  the  strength  and 
tenderness  of  a  beautiful  manly  nature  met  and  were 
declared.  There  are  looks  which  reveal  more  than 
word  or  act  can  demonstrate  in  years.  At  such  mo 
ments  Harry  Henslee  comprehended  his  father,  and 
revered  him  passionately. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

THE    RULE    OF   THREE. 

ONE  day  Miss  Charlock  had  said  to  herself,  consider 
ing  things  over,  "Three  's  an  odd  number.  Especially 
when  it 's  two  unusual  nice  girls,  and  one  —  well,  ever- 
age  nice  —  young  man.  I  don't  know  as  it  ever  oc 
curred  to  me  just  so  before.  I  hope  to  goodness  I 
haven't  been  making  any  mistake.  I  was  only  think 
ing  about  two  of  'em  —  as  far  forth  as  they  concern 
each  other  much;  it 's  time,  I  guess,  to  look  out  a  little 
for  number  three  —  if  I  can  tell  which  'tis.  That's 
the  one  that  gets  left  out.  Number  one  takes  care  of 
itself,  fast  enough;  and  sometimes  a  person  comes  by 
particular  circumstances  to  make  a  Scripture  neighbor 
of  number  two ;  but  —  well,  I  never  could  cleverly  mas 
ter  the  rule  of  three  —  and  a  three-ply  carpet  always 
wears  out  in  pockets  —  and  —  chooty-choo !  "  She  gave 
her  work  a  flirt,  her  scissors  slid  off  her  lap,  and  her 
spool  rolled  after  them,  unwinding  as  it  went ;  compel 
ling  her  to  pursuit  with  many  dives  and  twists  under  the 
legs  of  chairs  and  table  and  the  hems  of  her  own  skirts, 
before  she  recovered  thread  and  thought,  and  wound  up 
and  snipped  off  with,  "After  all,  it  's  the  holy  number, 
and  it  ought  to  work  right  all  the  way  down.  Anyway, 
I  '11  go  up  and  visit  a  little  with  the  Gladmother." 

And  it  was  in  this  visit,  while  the  odd  number  of 
young  people  were  off  together  in  one  of  their  summer 
rambles,  that  Aunt  Esther  had  managed  to  convey  to  the 
serene  old  lady  some  idea  of  unspoken  family  interest 


THE  RULE   OF  THREE.  365 

and  expectation,  without,  as  she  complacently  reflected, 
"really  saying  anything." 

It  is  the  thing  left  unsaid  that  works  its  quiet  way. 
The  Gladmother  kept  Lilian  by  her  side  a  little  more; 
she  managed  to  let  her  see  —  in  that  same  shrewd  care 
fulness  of  not  saying  —  with  what  a  gentle  kindness  she 
herself  perceived  some  sign  of  beautiful  story  weaving 
in  this  summer  life. 

So  Lilian  also  began,  in  her  young,  unsophisticated 
way,  to  look  on,  and  to  read  the  fairy  tale  and  to  dream 
the  artless  dream ;  to  think  how  sweet  life  was,  and 
might  be,  for  those  two;  for  any  to  whom  was  given 
such  part  in  life-unfolding,  such  share  in  the  wide 
blessedness  that  the  whole  world  is  made  to  breathe  and 
tell  of.  It  was  the  human  story  of  the  birds  and  flow 
ers ;  she  was  glad  in  it,  as  she  was  in  them,  imperson 
ally,  forgetting  herself.  She  did  not  put  herself  aside, 
for  her  self  was  nowhere.  And  yet  it  was  in  all;  "hav 
ing  nothing,  and  yet  possessing  all  things;  "  "meek,  and 
so  inheriting  the  earth."  Lilian  Hawtree  was,  as 
Harry  Henslee  had  said  of  her  from  his  first  perception, 
"a  new  kind  of  a  girl  altogether." 

"It  was  in  good  time,"  the  wise  Gladmother  said  to 
herself.  "Now  all  is  true  and  simple.  All  will  go 
well." 

It  was  just  as  Lilian  might  have  refrained  from  any 
common  appropriation  of  that  which  another  might 
desire  or  prefer,  that  she  withheld  herself,  now  and 
then,  from  enjoyment  that  the  three  would  naturally, 
perhaps,  have  taken  together ;  she  was  sometimes  busy 
when  they  proposed  a  walk;  this  also  had  claim,  as  well 
as  color,  of  a  duty.  She  was  not  here  merely  for  a  holi 
day  time ;  she  had  her  work.  When  she  put  this  for 
ward,  Harry  frowned  and  Estabel  would  often  appeal 
to  Aunt  Esther.  Aunt  Esther  would  say,  "Lilian 
knows  what  makes  her  most  comfortable.  If  there 
looks  to  be  a  little  bit  of  an  ought  one  way,  there  's  no 


366  SQUARE  PEGS. 

clear  pleasure  the  other;  and  there  's  no  satisfaction  in 
going  different,  when  you  see  a  signboard  that  you 
think  settles  your  track." 

Yet  she  would  not  let  Lilian  be  too  conscientious ; 
the  signboards  were  never  of  her  setting  up.  For  the 
most  part,  matters  were  not  conspicuously  different 
from  what  they  had  been.  This,  truly,  would  not  have 
been  expedient. 

It  happened  on  the  Saturday  in  question,  when  Harry 
came  to  the  Charlock  cottage,  with  only  some  two  hours, 
and  those  of  the  earlier  afternoon,  at  his  command  for 
the  expedition,  that  Lilian  was  finishing  the  trimming  of 
a  bridal  bonnet  for  the  village  lady  who  was  to  be  a  cer 
tain  Mr.  Job  Chirple's  third  wife;  and  that  afterward 
she  was  to  read  to  her  grandmother  and  Miss  Esther 
in  one  of  Miss  Austen's  stories,  whose  keenly  simple 
humor  and  real-life  delineations  they  were  enjoying. 

"Always  some  useless  bother!  "  Harry  protested  im 
patiently.  "I  don't  mean  the  reading;  that  might 
come  later,  and  would  n't  interfere.  But  the  third 
Mrs.  Cut-and-come-again !  How  long  will  it  take? 
Or  are  you  going  to  begin  on  the  next  one  ?  " 

An  outbreak  of  laughter  from  the  three  women  sur 
prised  him.  He  had  not  thought  he  had  been  funny 
enough  —  or  ridiculous  enough  —  for  that ;  and  half 
minded  to  take  fresh  offense,  he  said  so. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  you,  in  the  least,"  explained  Estabel. 
"It  is  old  Miss  Minks.  She  was  here  just  now,  and 
had  just  met  the  bridegroom-elect  —  or  elective.  If 
you  could  have  heard  her  account  of  the  conversation !  " 

Estabel  transformed  herself  suddenly  into  Miss  Minks. 
She  drew  her  upper  lip  down  over  her  teeth,  set  her 
head  on  one  side,  laid  the  palms  of  her  hands  across 
each  other,  with  a  little  wavy  movement  up  and  down, 
and  started  off  with  her  recital. 

"Yes  'm.  I  've  seen  him  myself.  I  've  had  a  pus'nal 
interview  with  him.  He  'd  druv  over  to  the  village, 


THE  RULE   OF  THREE.  367 

and  was  gittin'  out  at  Babson's  store.  I  hadn't  come 
across  him  before  sense  I  heard  the  news,  an'  I  im 
proved  the  occasion.  '  Well,  Brother  Chirple, '  says 
I,  very  polite,  '  so  I  hear  you  're  goin'  to  tackle  up  in 
double  harness  once  more.'  '  Seems  so,'  says  he. 
'  Some  folks  appear  to  have  the  luck  of  it. '  '  Speaks 
well  for  the  women, '  says  I ;  an'  I  told  him  he  certainly 
was  perseverin',  an'  I  hoped  it  would  last  him  out  this 
time;  'twould  be  terrible  discouragin'  if  it  wasn't  to. 
And  then  I  observed  that  he  'd  had  quite  a  checkered 
experience,  marked  off  toler'ble  reggler  in  black  and 
white.  '  Well,  Miss  Minks, '  says  he,  quite  solemn  an' 
earnest,  '  this  'ere  is  jest  how  it  's  bin  with  me.  My 
first  —  there,  I  did  set  my  very  eyes  by  her.  An'  then 
my  second  —  I  liked  her,  real  well,  what  I  seen  of  her ; 
but  she  only  lived  a  year.  An'  now  this  one  —  she 
comes  well  recommended,  an'  I  presume  she  '11  do  the 
best  she  can.'  The  poor  man  really  seemed  to  open 
his  mind  right  out,  an'  I  've  come  straight  here  with 
it,  so  you  may  depend  it  's  the  whole,  clear,  honest 
truth,  fust  hand." 

"I  won't  say  another  word  in  opposition  to  Mrs. 
Chirple-that-is-to-be's  bonnet!  She  ought  to  have  all 
possible  alleviation!  "  declared  Harry,  with  delighted 
glee. 

"Miss  Minks,  we  may  as  well  be  off." 

They  went  away,  apparently  well  satisfied,  together. 

It  pleased  Harry  to  get  Estabel  "down  off  her  stilts." 
She  was  so  bright  and  taking,  when  she  would  only 
condescend.  In  her  amusing,  imitative  moods,  there 
was  no  one  like  her. 

But  as  the  fun  evaporated,  the  indignation  reasserted 
itself. 

"That  she  should  work  for  such  people!  Mrs.  Job 
Chirple's  wedding  rig!  " 

"You  wouldn't  mind  if  I  made  a  bonnet  for  Mrs. 
Job  Chirple." 


368  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"No.  You  would  do  it  for  the  pleasure,  and  the 
kindness." 

"So  does  Lilian." 

"I  'd  rather  her  pleasure  and  kindness  should  n't  be 
paid  for  —  by  Sal,  Sue,  and  Polly !  " 

"Or  by  Aunt  Esther?  Lilian  doesn't  depend  much 
more  directly  on  millinery  than  I  do." 

"But  she  expects  to  keep  on  with  it.  She  's  person 
ally  identified.  She  never  will  —  it 's  next  to  impossi 
ble  she  should  —  get  out  of  it." 

"Providence  fin<?s  easy  ways  out  of  impossibilities, 
sometimes.  In  the  meanwhile,  she  is  content  and 
thankful.  There  's  nothing  to  be  ferocious  about." 

"Nor  provoking." 

"I  meant  that,  too.  So  please  leave  off,  and  be 
agreeable.  There  must  be  something  to  talk  about  be 
sides  Job  and  his  latter  days." 

As  Estabel  spoke  she  crossed  the  brook  at  its  narrow 
bend  below  the  orchard.  There  was  one  great  stone  in 
the  middle.  Two  light,  springing  steps  took  her  over 
with  elastic,  graceful  ease ;  there  had  been  no  slightest 
need  to  wait  for  Harry's  help. 

Harry  remembered  with  happy  present  contrast  the 
reckless  plunge  and  flounder  of  two  years  ago.  Estabel 
also  thought  of  it. 

"  Place  aux  dames,  toujours !  "  cried  Harry,  alighting 
beside  her  from  a  bold  standing  jump  that  ignored  the 
midway  point  of  support. 

"Especially  when  the  messieurs  can  immediately 
prove  the  mereness  of  the  courtesy  by  superior  demon 
stration." 

How  quick  and  firm  she  had  become  in  action  and  in 
repartee !  He  measured  her  against  herself  and  saw  that 
the  brusque,  blundering  girl  had  grown  into  the  clever, 
well-poised  woman.  If  she  would  always  be  like  this, 
and  only  this,  —  like  the  gay  sunshine,  piercing  with 
its  keen,  delicate  lances  and  their  kindly  quickening 


THE  RULE  OF  THREE.  369 

into  the  common,  heavy  earth  of  every  day,  rather  than 
the  unsparing  axe  laid  to  the  root  of  the  trees! 

Perhaps  in  the  friendship  of  these  two  girls  the  best 
of  each  had  found  and  modified  the  other's.  There 
were  times  when  he  could  hardly  discern  in  either 
whether  Lilian  predominated,  or  Estabel. 

In  all  this  Harry  Henslee  was  neither  so  utterly  igno 
rant  of  himself,  nor  so  weakly  vacillating,  as  might 
appear. 

He  knew  quite  well  what  he  wanted.  The  more 
Estabel  grew  to  resemble  and  repeat  Lilian,  the  better 
he  liked  her;  if  he  could  have  put  Lilian,  just  as  she 
was,  into  Estabel' s  circumstance,  he  would  have  been 
completely  satisfied.  His  restless  effort  was  to  recon 
cile  the  two  into  something  which  he  could  persuade 
himself  was  a  fully  complemented  identity.  Reversing 
the  old  song,  he  could  have  been  delightfully  content 
with  either,  had  she  possessed  more  of  the  charm  or  the 
condition  of  the  other.  As  things  were,  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  wish  either  out  of  the  comparison ;  to 
gether,  they  showed  him,  as  by  a  stereoscopic  view,  a 
rounded  and  completed  womanly  nature ;  an  adaptation, 
also,  to  a  world  in  which  are  both  externals  and  verities, 
but  in  which  they  seldom  seemed  to  him  to  coincide. 

Harry  Henslee  was  at  once  impulsive  and  conven 
tional.  And  as  yet  he  only  perceived  in  a  dim  and 
puzzled  way  what  was  so  clear  to  Lilian's  and  the  Glad- 
mother's  single  sight,  —  that  it  is  only  by  a  false  and 
arbitrary  wrenching  apart  tfcat  the  life  created  one  can 
ever  be  made  a  doubleness,  and  set  in  irreconcilable 
separateness  and  distance. 

Estabel,  shrewd  and  quick-witted,  loyal  to  and  jeal 
ous  for  Lilian,  was  sensitively  perceptive  of  this  contra- 
dictoriness  in  Harry  as  it  touched  her  friend,  and  she 
took  up  her  part  accordingly. 

She  consented  to  much  monopoly  of  Harry  that  she 
would  otherwise  have  avoided  or  refused.  I  think  she 


370  SQUARE  PEGS. 

felt  as  if  she  were  holding  a  kind  of  protectorate  until 
such  time  as  a  full  and  true  development  should  place 
present  fluctuating  relations  on  a  right  and  certain  basis. 
Not  that  she  acted  as  of  any  special  or  deliberate  plan ; 
she  only  discerned  by  intuition  that  matters  were  but 
in  temporary  assortment,  and  must  be  given  time  in 
which  to  adjust  themselves.  Possibly  she  went  no  fur 
ther  than  her  desire  that  Harry  should  take  a  right  and 
noble  view  of  Lilian  and  her  position;  assuredly  .she 
would  not  let  Lilian  herself  be  sought  in  intimate 
friendship,  only  to  be  made  to  feel  later  that  between 
her  and  such  friendship  was  the  bar  of  her  place  and 
occupation.  It  did  not  seem  to  her  fair  that  Harry 
should  admire  and  like  her  only  partly,  or  under  any 
sort  of  protest ;  he  must  take  her  altogether  and  uncon 
ditionally,  to  be  worthy  of  her  regard  at  all. 

"There  can  be  no  superior  demonstration  of  a  thing 
done  perfectly  —  in  its  own  proportion.  You  know 
you  did  that  well. " 

There  had  been  no  appreciable  gap  between  the  sen 
tences  of  their  light  talk.  Our  analytics  represent  no 
space ;  they  are  but  the  flash  upon  the  unbroken  outlines 
of  occurrence. 

"Thank  you.  I  didn't  try  to  do  anything  at  all. 
It  's  a  good  thing  to  learn  not  to  take  your  jump  until 
you  can  virtually  feel  yourself  on  the  other  side.  A 
cat  measures  a  hole  by  her  whiskers.  I  've  done  with 
plunging  for  points  that  I  can't  reach." 

"  Done  with  hope  and  ambition  ?  " 

"I  didn't  say  that.  I  may  get  to  the  top  of  the 
hill  over  there,  but  it  won't  be  in  the  next  step,  nor 
the  next  after.  I  'm  finding  out  how  fine  it  is  to  be 
content  and  comfortable  along  the  way." 

"One  needn't  always  take  the  longest  way  round, 
though. " 

"See  here,  Harry.  This  brook  is  bound  for  the  river 
—  by  and  by,  after  it  has  taken  all  its  pretty  turn 


THE  RULE  OF  THREE.  371 

through  the  woods.  It  doesn't  try  to  run  over  the 
ridge,  though,  right  here." 

"You  're  as  sharp  and  pat  as  Susan  Nipper,  with 
your  proverbs  and  comparisons." 

"There  is  one  particular  proverb  that  I  don't  think 
has  ever  been  properly  applied,  —  '  Don't  cross  your 
bridge  until  you  come  to  it.'  It  ought  to  be,  '  Don't 
cross  your  river  in  a  hurry  before  you  come  to  your 
bridge. '  ' 

"Nor  give  it  up,  and  go  back?  " 

"No,  indeed.      That  's  a  faithless  fraternity." 

"Fraternity?" 

"Yes.  The  other  thing  that  you  might  do.  That  's 
how  Miss  Minks  expresses  it.  We  've  got  to  turn  this 
way  for  our  bridge,  Harry." 

Standing  upon  it  presently,  they  stopped  beside  the 
railing,  looking  up  and  down  the  reaches  of  the  river. 

"It  seems  a  shame,"  said  Estabel,  "but  I  suppose 
it  has  to  come." 

The  pretty  natural  embankment  was  all  an  upturned 
mass  of  earth  and  gravel.  Stone  sleepers  were  being 
laid  where  the  brown  footpath  had  wound  along  under 
the  hill.  A  gang  of  men  in  red  and  blue  and  gray 
blouses  and  nondescript  trousers  were  handling  the 
heavy  blocks  with  bar  and  pick,  settling  them  into  their 
rough  parallels.  The  bushy  border  of  the  stream  had 
been  hacked  away.  The  water-level  was  being  utilized 
for  human  traffic,  and  the  blackbirds  and  the  phebes  and 
the  little  warblers  that  hunted  in  the  underbrush  had 
been  driven  back,  bewildered,  from  the  pleasant  tangla 
that  had  been  all  their  own. 

"Changes  always  spoil  something,"  Estabel  said. 
"We  have  to  take  what  they  bring,  and  make  the  more 
of  what  they  leave." 

"That's  good  sound  sense,"  Harry  agreed,  as  they 
turned  to  walk  up  the  long  pasture  rise.  "Do  you 
know  I  'm  getting  awfully  proud  of  you,  Estabel?  " 


372  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Aren't  you  grateful  that  your  life  has  been  spared 
long  enough  ?  " 

"More  so,  I  guess,  that  it  hasn't  needed  to  be  spared 
longer.  That  would  have  convicted  me  of  stupidity." 

"I  wonder  what  has  quickened  your  intellect  so  sud 
denly  on  that  particular  point?  There  —  there's  the 
goldenrod !  " 

Below  a  sheltering  boulder,  full  in  the  warm  south 
sun,  stood  a  lovely  clump  of  the  tall,  strong  stems, 
each  flinging  gayly  from  its  tip  its  yellow  gonfalon. 

Estabel  sat  down  upon  the  dry  turf  out  of  which  they 
sprang.  Harry  stood  beside  her.  "I  've  had  a  good 
talk  with  father,  to-day, "  he  said. 

"Did  he  tell  you?" 

"What?" 

"How  well  I  had  turned  out." 

"What  made  you  think  of  that?  " 

"Weren't  you  answering  my  question?  I  under 
stood  you  so.  But  perhaps  it  was  my  grasping  vanity." 

"He  said  better  things  of  you  than  that.  I  think  he 
talked  more,  almost,  about  you  than  of  the  new  ves 
sel." 

"Tell  me  about  the  new  vessel." 

And  then  Harry  recounted  to  her  all  the  plans  — 
that  he  knew  of;  the  resuscitation  of  the  old  shipbuild 
ing  business  at  the  Henslee  yards ;  the  opening  and  sys 
tematizing  of  a  larger,  more  continuous  South  American 
trade ;  the  tropical  voyages,  of  which,  now  and  then, 
he  might  make  one,  as  supercargo  and  part  owner;  the 
partnership ;  the  fine  new  craft  that  was  to  be  designed 
and  built  and  launched  and  off  before  the  end  of  an 
other  year. 

"And  we  have  got  to  think  of  a  name,"  he  said. 
His  face  was  all  alight  with  pride  and  confident  expec 
tation.  Life  lay  before  the  young  fellow,  as  if  he 
might  gather  to  himself  whatever  and  all  he  would  from 
the  bountiful  outstretch  of  the  future. 


THE  RULE  OF  THREE.  373 

"I  am  very  glad  for  you,  Harry.  I  think  your 
father  is  splendidly  generous." 

"He  's  the  grandest  old  parent  since  —  the  Father  of 
his  country!  I  'd  go  back  to  the  Patriarchs,  but  there 
wasn't  one  of  that  lot  could  hold  a  candle  to  him! 
Now  let  's  think  up  a  name." 

Estabel  broke  off  a  stem  of  the  goldenrod,  and  held 
up  its  bright  plume. 

"This, "  she  said. 

Harry  pulled  off  his  hat  and  tossed  it  in  the  air. 

"I  believe  you've  hit  it!  Don't  say  it,  though. 
Don't  let  's  try  the  sound  of  it  till  we  tell  it  to  him!  " 

They  gathered  the  sheaf  of  flame-touched  blossoms, 
and  went  down  homeward  with  them  like  torchbearers 
in  a  triumph. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 
"WHAT  DID  HE  COME  HERE  FOR?" 

DR.  NORTH,  sitting  with  the  Gladmother  in  her  west 
window  behind  the  bowed  blinds,  saw  the  two  come 
diagonally  up  the  slope  together,  skirting  the  farther 
line  of  the  garden.  He  saw  them  quicken  their  steps 
as  they  approached  the  house,  as  if  perceiving  some  one 
with  a  pleased  surprise.  Mr.  Henslee  came  round  by 
the  side  way  and  met  them.  They  all  stopped  a  mo 
ment  full  in  view,  but  none  of  them  looked  up ;  they 
were  all  busy  with  one  another.  If  they  had  glanced 
this  way,  they  would  scarcely  have  perceived  the  doc 
tor.  The  slanting  blind  and  his  position  in  the  shaded 
room,  a  little  back  from  the  Gladmother 's  chair,  though 
giving  him  a  ready  outlook,  shielded  him  from  any  prob 
able  notice. 

Their  voices  came  clearly  up  through  the  still  air  and 
the  open  window. 

"I've  just  driven  over  to  meet  you,"  Mr.  Henslee 
said  to  Harry.  "The  longest  way  round  —  on  wheels 

—  will  be    the   shortest  way  home.      And  MacLinn   is 
sure  to  be  punctual." 

"All  right,"  was  Harry's  answer.  It  had  a  pecul 
iarly  glad  ring  in  it,  as  if  —  it  sounded  to  the  doctor 

—  other  things   just   then  might  be    opportunely  right 
with  him.       "I'm   ready.      Just   let   me  tell  you  that 
the  name   is  settled  —  if  you  like  it  so.      Estabel  is  to 
be  godmother.      She  wants  the  vessel  called  the  Golden- 
rod." 

Estabel  stood,    happily  flushing,  between  father  and 


"WHAT  DID   HE  COME   HERE  FOR?"     375 

son,  the  great  gay  bunch  of  nodding  corymbs  held  be 
fore  her,  her  eyes  lifted  with  a  shy  inquiry  in  them  to 
Mr.  Henslee's  face.  Harry,  for  his  part,  wore  a  proud 
little  tuft  of  the  yellow  tips  in  his  buttonhole. 

Was  it  all  about  the  adoption  of  the  name  ?  And 
the  name  —  and  the  long  ramble  together  —  and  the 
gold-gathering,  and  the  shy,  happy  look,  and  the  wear 
ing  of  a  favor  —  did  they  mean  nothing  in  their  con 
junction  ? 

Was  Dr.  North  to  blame  for  the  quick  thought  that 
other  things  might  have  been  settled,  or  be  very  near 
it,  giving  significance  of  occasion  to  the  choice  and 
sponsorship  ? 

He  made  haste  to  say  some  few  words  to  Mrs. 
Trubin.  But  she  was  openly  looking  and  listening,  and 
did  not  reply.  This,  and  the  next  words  that  Mr. 
Henslee  said  scarcely  helped  to  weaken  the  impression. 

"Estabel  is  apt  to  choose  right,"  that  gentleman 
was  answering,  with  a  pleased  smile,  and  he  touched 
the  girl's  shoulder  caressingly. 

"But  do  you  like  it?"  she  asked,  still  with  that 
bright,  wistful  look  seeking  to  his. 

"Thoroughly.  It  will  just  exactly  do.  She  shall 
be  launched,  if  all  goes  well,  within  a  year  from  now, 
and  we  '11  have  her  dressed  in  her  own  flower,  from 
stem  to  stern.  It 's  a  bright  thought,  and  a  happy  em 
blem.  Thank  you,  Estabel.  We  '11  talk  it  over,  name 
and  all,  another  time.  Now,  Harry,  we  must  go." 

Was  their  present  speech  double? 

The  two  men  said  their  cordial  good-bys,  with  a  pal 
pably  a  rivederci  tone,  and  went  away  around  the  house 
together,  to  the  east  dooryard,  whence  Mr.  Henslee  had 
come.  Estabel  stood  still  a  minute,  looking  after  them. 
Then  she  walked  a  few  steps  the  same  way,  and  came  in 
by  the  kitchen  porch. 

Perhaps  it  was  a  pity  that  Ur.  North  could  not  fol 
low  his  observation  of  her  further. 


376  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Through  the  open  doors  and  passage,  as  she  entered, 
she  caught  sight,  suddenly,  of  that  other  horse  and 
vehicle  waiting  at  the  gate,  and  at  the  same  instant  a 
voice  reached  her  ears  that  startled  her. 

"  Well, "  Dr.  North  was  saying,  in  a  prolonged,  almost 
explosive  way  he  had  of  uttering  the  word  after  a  silence, 
"I  suppose  I  ought  to  he  off." 

When  Ulick  North  had  most  to  keep  in  control  or 
bid  back  within  himself,  he  was  most  absolutely  com 
monplace.  His  deep-breathed  "wells "  covered  often 
an  interval  of  withholden  breathing.  Doctors  learn  to 
be  like  that,  probably. 

He  was  on  his  feet  when  Estabel  came  into  the  room. 

She  approached  him  with  glad  eyes  and  outstretched 
hand.  He  thought  it  was  the  still  brimming  gladness 
that  had  begun  from  other  cause. 

His  hand  met  hers  with  the  old  brief,  limp  touch. 
Then  he  turned  and  made  some  ordinary  and  rather 
irrelevant  remark  to  Mrs.  Trubin.  He  was  rude ;  he 
knew  it ;  but  it  was  his  heroic  treatment  of  himself. 

Estabel  looked  at  him  with  a  silent,  sad  surprise 
clouding  suddenly  over  the  brilliant  eyes.  Then  a 
different  flash  shot  from  them,  and  she  turned  away. 

"I  will  go  and  put  your  goldenrod  in  water,"  she 
said  to  Lilian,  who  had  come  in  quietly. 

"Why  should  she  pass  it  over  ostentatiously  to  her?  " 
darted  with  fresh  circumstantial  of  false  evidence 
through  Ulick 's  mind.  He  might  have  detected  him 
self  if  he  had  not  so  done  before,  by  this  very  grasping 
of  "confirmation  strong."  "Trifles  light  as  air"  con 
vict  reflexively. 

Estabel  had  left  the  room. 

The  next  moment  her  voice  came  hurriedly  up  from 
below.  "Dr.  North!  Your  horse!  "  she  cried. 

She  stepped  back  quickly  from  the  stairfoot  as  he 
came  springing  down.  Then,  as  quickly,  she  followed 
him  out  into  the  dooryard. 


"WHAT  DID  HE  COME  HERE  FOR?"     377 

The  horse  had  been  secured  by  the  tie-rein  to  a  rude 
tethering-stone  that  had  lain  in  the  grass  beside  the 
Charlock  gate  for  years  unmoved.  It  was  a  fragment 
of  a  broken  grindstone,  apparently,  a  portion  of  its 
original  central  perforation  showing  in  the  irregular 
outline  of  the  fracture.  Into  its  solid  mass  a  staple 
had  been  drilled  and  a  ring  fixed.  Bedded  in  the  low 
bank  outside  the  fence,  it  had  seemed  aHi  immovable  as 
the  outcrop  of  a  granite  ledge. 

But  by  some  start  or  restlessness  of  the  animal  now 
made  fast  to  it,  it  had  become  dislodged  and  had  rolled 
down  under  his  feet.  The  rein  was  too  short ;  a  fright 
ened  jump  dragged  the  weight  from  the  ground ;  it  hung 
by  the  bit  and  dangled  dangerously  against  the  horse's 
knees.  Naturally,  he  reared  high  up ;  the  stone  swung 
in  the  air,  and  vibrated  back  and  forth.  A  catastrophe 
was  imminent. 

Dr.  North  made  his  swift  way  through  the  gate  and 
to  the  horse's  farther  side.  He  spoke  to  him  reas 
suringly;  he  reached  his  hand  to  the  bridle  and  tried 
to  seize  it  as  the  creature  again  and  again  came  down 
from  his  upward  leaps.  But  it  was  wrenched  from  his 
hold. 

A  girl  with  a  white  face  stood  on  the  mound  made 
by  the  old  elm  roots  behind  the  fence. 

"Turn  him  this  way  if  you  can,  Dr.  North!  "  she 
called  clearly  but  not  sharply.  And  either  by  Ulick's 
more  successful  effort  at  the  moment,  and  a  throwing 
of  his  whole  force  in  that  direction,  —  his  most  anxious 
purpose  being  to  prevent  a  bolt,  —  or  by  the  horse  swerv 
ing  from  the  resolute  restraint,  the  forelegs  did  descend 
upon  the  slant  of  turf  in  alarming  nearness  to  the  slight 
picket  rail  over  which  Estabel  leaned ;  and  the  ugly 
bulk  of  rock  dropped  once  more  upon  the  top  of  the 
narrow  embankment.  Instantly  she  reached  over  and 
held  fast  upon  the  tie-rein  with  both  hands,  bracing  her 
feet  against  the  big  protruding  root  of  the  old  tree. 


378  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Dr.  North,  in  the  instant's  advantage,  secured  his  own 
grasp  on  each  side  of  the  bit,  and  the  danger  was  over. 

Estabel  quietly  unbuckled  the  strap  from  the  iron 
ring. 

"  You  did  that  well, "  the  doctor  said  to  her,  as 
breath  and  tranquillity  returned. 

It  was  the  second  time  the  same  words  had  been  said 
to  her  that  day.  Same  words  sometimes  sound  very 
strange. 

"Why  didn't  you  stand  still  and  scream?"  asked 
the  doctor,  as  he  patted  the  horse's  nose,  and  felt  the 
head  straps  and  unhooked  the  tie-rein  from  the  bit. 
He  made  the  little  mock  as  one  who  avoids  any  giving 
way  to  emotional  expression. 

Estabel,  waiting  only  for  a  moment  to  be  certain  of 
controlled  movement  before  making  her  retreat,  took 
the  cue. 

"Are  you  speaking  to  the  horse?  "  she  inquired  non 
chalantly,  "or  was  that  what  you  expected  me  to  do? 
Perhaps  we  might  try  it  all  over  again,  and  manage 
more  en  regie."  And  with  that  she  began  to  walk  away 
toward  the  house.  But  her  knees  trembled,  and  she  had 
to  stop,  with  a  very  determined  effort  to  stand  firm. 

"Hadn't  you  better  tie  him  to  the  fence  and  come 
in  again  ?  "  she  asked  to  cover  her  own  pause. 

"No.  You  must  say  good-by  for  me.  I  can't  leave 
him  now." 

"Very  well;  but  you  can't  leave  your  hat."  And 
now  she  compelled  herself  with  a  strong,  swift  step, 
and  reached  the  door.  Lilian  stood  there. 

"You  brave,  brave  thing!  "  she  said. 

"Hush!  There  's  the  doctor's  hat.  Give  it  to  him, 
please."  And  up  the  stairs  went  Estabel,  and  into  her 
own  room  and  shut  the  door. 

She  sat  down  upon  her  bedside ;  she  must  put  herself 
somewhere,  and  she  would  take  no  prone,  vanquished 
posture. 


"WHAT  DID  HE  COME  HERE  FOR?"     379 

"What  did  he  come  here  for?"  she  demanded  of 
herself  with  stern,  unspoken  words ;  lifting  up,  as 
against  a  challenge,  her  proud,  hot  face,  overspread 
with  indignation,  shame,  and  the  refusal  of  importunate 
tears.  "To  take  back  all  his  little  bits  of  kindness? 
To  let  me  see  —  as  if  I  needed  —  how  little  he  has  ever 
thought  of  me  at  all  —  how  lie  despises  me  ?  " 

Lilian  knocked  at  the  door.  "Don't  you  need  some 
thing,  dear?  Aren't  you  feeling  faint  or  weak,  after 
it  all  ?  " 

"No,  Lil,  thank  you,"  came  back  a  quite  calm  voice. 
"I  'm  all  right.  I  don't  need  anything.  I  'm  very 
strong,  you  know." 

Then  she  got  up,  smoothed  her  rumpled  hair,  and 
began  to  act  up  to  her  conviction  of  herself. 

Dr.  North,  driving  back  to  Peaceport  by  the  long 
shore  road,  faced  the  assumed  fact  unflinchingly. 

"She  will  take  the  easy  way,"  he  said.  "They  all 
do.  They  all  '  wed  the  Earlie's  son  '  —  if  they  can 
get  him  —  or  the  market  gardener."  And  he  smiled 
with  a  pitiless  derision  at  his  own  grim  Swivellerism. 

Here  were  two  persons,  true  to  severity  in  nature  and 
habit,  dealing  untruly  with  themselves  and  each  other, 
because  acting,  not  from  heart-centre,  but  from  ex 
ternal  phase  and  impression.  It  is  in  the  outside  of 
ourselves,  and  of  life,  that  we  make  mistakes.  Against 
the  vivid,  interior  light  we  let  down  a  veil,  secrete  our 
selves,  and  misjudge  the  neighbor.  So  we  walk  in  the 
old  "vain  shadow,  disquieting  ourselves  in  vain." 

The  most  terrible  misplacements  and  wrenches  in 
human  history  and  relation  come  not  from  adverse, 
inimical  plot  and  crafty  machination,  but  from  our  own 
putting  of  ourselves  out  of  true  alignment  and  poise  — 
seeing  and  moving  from  false  focus  and  balance. 

And  it  is  they  who  are  most  essentially  real  who 
suffer  most. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

UDR.     NORTH    IS    A    FINE    MAN." 

"DR.  NORTH  is  a  fine  man,"  said  the  Gladmother. 

With  all  her  other-worldliness,  which  was  really 
her  one-worldliness,  and  with  all  her  simplicity  so 
utterly  clear  of  guile,  she  could  approach  a  subject  in 
which  she  felt  a  dawning  interest  or  solicitude  with  as 
much  gradual  caution  as  any  wily  diplomat.  This  was 
of  her  absolute  truth,  indeed ;  such  truth  being  of  a 
finer  discretion  than  any  vulgar  cunning  knows.  Be 
cause  thought  and  interest  were  in  the  dawn  with  her, 
she  brought  her  word  to  bear  with  a  corresponding  deli 
cacy  of  inquest.  Because  all  was  in  a  twilight  of  dis 
closure,  she  would  light  no  flaring  torch  to  flout  the  day 
with  coarse  anticipation. 

She  had  no  least  intent  to  meddle ;  she  did  not  even 
try  to  guess  how  much  there  was  to  meddle  with.  She 
only  saw  that  something  was  at  work  that  might  at  least 
hinder  friendship  unfairly ;  and  such  hindrance  and  un 
fairness  should  not  be  in  the  way  of  any  right  and  natural 
ordering  of  event  or  relation.  All  must  have  the  Lord's 
free  chance ;  for  she  knew  that  the  Divine  working  waits 
on  human  loyalty  and  willingness.  To  make  a  straight 
path  is  only  to  prepare  His  way. 

Mrs.  Trubin  and  Estabel  were  sitting  together  under 
the  canopy  of  the  elms  in  the  little  dooryard.  The 
Gladmother  loved  the  pleasant  place,  and  after  the  sun 
had  turned  a  little  westward  and  the  early  dinner  was 
over,  she  would  often  sit  in  the  deep  basket  chair  they 
put  there  for  her,  with  her  feet  upon  a  soft  old  rug,  and 


"DR.   NORTH  IS  A  FINE  MAN."  381 

the  green  shadows  falling  about  her,  while  the  air  was 
yet  warm  and  rich  with  lingering  midday  fervor,  and 
stay  until  the  later  cooling  of  the  afternoon.  One  or 
both  of  the  girls  would  keep  her  company;  oftenest  it 
was  Estabel,  who  read  to  her  some  pleasant  old  ro 
mance  or  beautiful  poem,  or  asked  her  questions  about 
real  life  and  its  meanings. 

"  Every  life  is  a  story, "  the  old  lady  would  say. 
"That  's  why  I  like  stories.  It  seems  to  me  that  in 
the  heart- world  they  read  our  stories  as  we  read  those 
in  books,  and  live  them  with  us,  and  know  how  it  is 
going  to  be  all  right  with  us  when  we  have  turned  over 
a  few  more  leaves.  And  there  's  a  poem-secret  in 
everybody  and  in  everything;  that  's  why  I  like  poetry. 
It  tells  the  secrets,  and  leaves  us  to  understand  each 
one  our  own." 

It  was  only  a  few  days  after  Dr.  North's  visit,  and 
it  had  been  with  a  little  determination  that  Estabel, 
finding  that  it  fell  to  her  to-day  to  keep  company  with 
the  Gladmother,  had  followed  her  with  cushions  and 
book,  and  established  herself  with  her  as  usual.  There 
was  a  reminder  here  that  she  shrank  from,  and  there 
fore  braved. 

And  it  was  by  this  reminder  that  her  old  friend 
found  it  natural  to  speak. 

The  first  word  was  a  reference  to  what  had  happened 
that  other  afternoon ;  the  torn  turf  outside  the  paling 
still  showed  traces  of  the  brief,  wild  struggle ;  the 
mound  about  the  ancient  roots  which  had  given  Estabel 
at  once  her  vantage  and  her  peril,  was  the  very  one 
against  which  she  now  leaned,  sitting  upon  the  warm 
ground  beside  the  Gladmother 's  chair. 

"I  saw  it  all,  you  know,  from  my  front  window; 
and  Lilian  was  in  the  doorway.  It  was  frightful,  for 
a  minute.  I  don't  think  either  of  us  breathed,  but  it 
was  soon  bravely  over." 

Mrs.   Trubin   glanced  at  Estabel 's   face.      Its   color 


382  SQUARE  PEGS. 

had  changed  suddenly.  But  it  was  not  to  the  paleness 
that  the  recollection  of  that  moment's  fear  and  desper 
ate  effort  might  have  caused ;  it  was  a  quick  flush,  and 
there  was  the  lifting  of  the  chin  in  the  girl's  proud 
way,  that  meant  scorn  of  any  kind  of  daunting  con 
sciousness. 

"Dr.  North  must  have  been  surprised  that  there 
were  three  of  us  who  hadn't  the  presence  of  mind  to 
do  the  prescribed  thing,"  Estabel  replied,  in  a  deliber 
ate,  disdainful  monotone. 

"My  dear?"  That  was  the  Gladmother's  way  of 
asking  explanation.  Her  eyes  questioned  mildly  over 
her  spectacles. 

"That  we  didn't  all  scream.  It  was  what  he  had 
expected.  Shall  we  go  on  with  '  Persuasion, '  Glad- 
mother  ?  " 

"If  you  please.  It  is  better,  I  think,  than  '  Pride 
and  Prejudice, '  "  the  old  lady  answered  with  quaint 
humor,  letting  her  eyes  return  to  her  work  through  the 
proper  centre  of  her  glasses. 

And  then,  while  Estabel  turned  over  the  leaves  to 
find  the  place,  she  made  that  casual  remark  as  she 
changed  her  knitting  needles  and  drew  out  a  comfort 
able  length  of  yarn,  — 

"Dr.  North  is  a  fine  man." 

"I  suppose  he  is,"  Estabel  answered  shortly. 

"Not  more  than  '  suppose  '  ?  "  The  Gladmother's 
smile  was  lenient. 

Estabel  let  the  book  fall  back  upon  her  knee,  with 
her  finger  in  it  at  the  right  page.  She  perceived  that 
the  Gladmother  meant  to  talk  a  little,  and  she  yielded 
to  her  intention,  not  only  from  loving  courtesy,  but 
knowing  how  apt  —  how  almost  certain  —  the  wise  wo 
man's  words  were  to  bear  some  comfort  with  them. 

"I  have  not  found  out  exactly  how  to  suppose  about 
Dr.  North, "  she  said,  with  an  air  of  cool  discussion. 
"I  know  some  things  about  him,  and  they  are  the  fine 


«DR.   NORTH  IS  A  FINE  MAN."  383 

things.  But  I  don't  always  understand  the  way  he 
behaves. " 

"Do  we  do  that  with  anybody?  Perhaps  he  does 
not  always  understand  the  way  —  other  folks  —  behave. 
People  don't  invariably  behave  themselves  —  though 
that 's  the  common  thing  to  say  and  expect." 

"That  's  exactly  what  I  mean.  Dr.  North  does  not 
behave  himself.  He  puts  himself  away  out  of  sight, 
and  behaves  something  different." 

"  Do  you  never  do  that  ?  " 

Estabel  considered  the  question.  "I  dare  say  I 
do,"  she  answered,  after  the  moment's  pause.  "I  dare 
say  he  doesn't  understand  me.  And  I  think  it  very 
likely  that  he  never  will." 

This  touched  the  case  in  point.  The  Gladmother 
could  speak  to  a  definite  intent,  though  still  carefully 
in  the  abstract. 

"All  the  misunderstandings  and  mistakes  in  the 
world,"  she  said,  "are  in  the  behaving.  If  people  only 
knew  how  to  get  behind  that,  into  the  real  person,  we 
should  live  like  the  angels.  We  don't  get  really  inside 
ourselves,  even,  into  the  closet  of  us,  where  the  Lord  tells 
us  to  go  in  and  shut  the  door,  and  speak  to  Him.  We 
act  in  a  hurry,  on  the  outside,  according  to  the  way 
things  touch  us,  and  people  seem.  We  even  say  our 
prayers  outside.  It  's  the  reason  of  all  the  wickedness 
and  the  pain  and  the  trouble.  There  is  n't  any  miser- 
ableness  nor  any  sin,  way  in.  There  's  a  safe  and  se 
cret  place  there,  where  the  Lord  waits  with  us,  and  has 
mercy  on  us.  We  must  just  live  out  from  that,  and 
the  open  things  will  be  made  all  right.  If  we  knew 
ourselves  that  way,  we  should  come  to  know  our  neigh 
bor  so,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  keep  the  Second  Great 
Commandment. " 

"But  certainly,  Gladmother,  we  have  to  meet  things 
and  people  as  we  find  them ;  as  they  choose  —  the  peo 
ple,  I  mean  —  to  show  themselves  to  us.  There  's  an 


384  SQUARE  PEGS. 

outside  even  to  character  and  spirit.  We  are  not  dis 
embodied  yet ;  and  it  seems  as  if  there  were  more  than 
one  body  to  be  gotten  rid  of  before  we  shall  be." 

"That 's  as  true  as  can  be.  But  the  way  to  get  be 
yond  all  the  bodily  wrappings  and  hindrances  is  to  get 
behind  them ;  to  believe  behind  them,  of  ourselves  and 
everybody  else." 

"It  doesn't  seem  as  if  we  always  had  the  right. 
It  's  like  listening  and  prying,  when  people  shut  their 
doors." 

"But  if  a  door  has  once  been  open,  we  are  not  bound 
to  forget  what  we  have  been  shown  within.  We  are 
bound  to  remember  it,  and  to  set  it  against  any  outside 
roughness  or  poorness  or  plainness  or  even  ugliness. 
We  are  told  that  some  time  we  shall  see  '  the  King  in 
his  beauty.'  I  think  the  King's  beauty  is  in  the  deep 
heart  of  every  human  creature,  and  is  what  is  going  to 
be  brought  out,  in  different  patterns  and  images,  in 
every  human  creature's  everlasting  life." 

The  Gladmother  folded  her  hands  in  that  attitude  of 
rest  they  took  when  her  soul  rested  in  some  clear  word 
of  certainty. 

"Believe  in  the  very  best  you  can  get  a  glimpse  of  in 
other  people.  Call  it  them,  and  the  other  things  acci 
dents.  And  find  out  the  real  true  best  in  yourself,  and 
behave  from  that.  There  are  n't  many  snarls,  even  in 
this  world-tangle,  that  won't  unravel  that  way." 

"It  sounds  beautiful,"  said  Estabel;  "but  it  seems 
to  make  everybody  just  alike.  Some  people  must  be 
more  or  better  for  us  than  others,  and  we  have  to  choose 
and  love  our  friends  because  of  their  moreness  and  bet- 
terness.  I  should  not  wish  to  give  up  that." 

"Did  I  say  '  just  alike'?  No,  indeed.  Every  one 
has  an  own  special  muchness  and  betterness,  and  there  's 
a  special  measure  of  fitness  one  with  another.  That  is 
what  settles  friendships,  and  all  our  belonging  —  in  this 
world  and  in  the  world  this  tells  of.  But  we  are  never 


«DR.    NORTH  IS  A  FINE  MAN."  385 

to  measure  worseness  against  betterness,  nor  forget  the 
best  —  that  we  are  or  know  of  —  because  of  some  small 
contradiction  that  we  may  not  understand." 

The  Gladmother  knew  very  well  that  she  had  simply 
given  Estabel  a  principle ;  that  a  principle  is  not  a  bias, 
and  that  a  true  principle  can  never  work  untruly.  The 
girl  might  easily  apply  it  in  more  than  one  direction; 
that  rested  with  the  essential  fitness  of  things ;  no  harm 
could  come  of  a  frank  justice  or  a  generous  allowance ; 
these,  and  only  these,  might  spare,  and  perhaps  rectify, 
much  that  ought  not  to  be  unconcernedly  passed  by  and 
left  to  trouble  or  perplex.  It  is  the  truth  that  makes 
free.  Elder  experience  can  do  more  against  young 
mistake  by  inspiring  that  to  which  itself  has  ripened, 
than  by  remonstrating  against  any  imminent  particular 
mistake. 

And  no  seed  of  truth  was  lost  in  Estabel' s  honest  and 
truth-desiring  mind.  She  was  comforted,  in  a  degree 
—  strengthened  against  immediate  irritation  and  de 
spondence —  by  the  Gladmother's  wise  words. 

Some  time  everybody  would  understand  everybody; 
perhaps  she  had  not  been  wholly  sure  and  fair,  in  all 
her  own  thought,  to  anybody ;  if  she  could  mistake, 
why  should  she  expect  not  to  be  mistaken  ?  If  it  were 
only  mistake  —  why,  that  was  not  real,  bitter  dislike, 
nor  contempt,  nor  unkindness ;  and  mistake  would  finally 
prove  itself.  There  was  ever  so  much  life  to  live;  she 
would  hold  fast,  as  the  Gladmother  said,  to  the  best  she 
had,  and  knew,  and  wait  for  the  more,  that  in  some 
way  and  form  must  come,  since  there  was  really  no 
thing  —  and  no  one  —  in  which  or  whom  there  was  not 
a  best  to  come  at  last  into  full  light. 

But  why  did  not  the  Gladmother  talk  to  Dr.  North? 

The  time  —  and  way  —  perhaps  the  clear  reason  — • 
had  not  yet  come.  She  did  her  day's  errand,  and  there 
left  it. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

HOLIDAYS    IN    THE    CRESCENT. 

EVERYBODY  was  a  year  older.  Midsummer  had  come 
and  passed  again.  The  intervening  months,  though  full 
of  day  to  day  interest  and  occupation,  had  gone  hy,  for 
the  most  part,  without  marked  event.  It  is  in  the  still 
times,  nevertheless,  that  events  ripen.  The  winter 
that  had  made  seeming  pause  and  silence  in  the  earth 
had  not  heen  more  surely  quick  with  process  out  of 
which  the  summer  revelation  should  come,  than  this 
interval  in  the  simple  affairs  with  which  we  have  to  do 
had  been  busy  in  maturing  force  and  preparing  circum 
stance  for  all  that  was  in  near  sequence  to  follow. 

Within  the  little  round  of  ordinary  happening,  motive 
had  been  shaping,  influence  had  been  bearing  upon  mind 
and  act,  perceptions  had  been  deepening  and  widening 
—  changing,  as  things  must  change  in  all  such  progress 
toward  defining.  A  whole  inner  experience,  but  half 
known  or  suspected  by  each  of  each,  had  had  its  sepa 
rate,  individual,  yet  mutually  related  growth  in  the 
lives  that  make  our  story. 

The  keel  of  the  Goldenrod  had  been  laid  on  Harry 
Henslee's  twenty-first  birthday.  Through  the  favoring 
weather  of  the  remaining  autumn  weeks  the  work  had 
been  advanced,  and  all  winter  long  the  shipyard  had 
been  busy  with  detailed  labor  on  the  many  parts,  and 
the  gradual  rearing  into  shape  of  the  noble  construction. 
There  was  no  hurrying;  spring  and  summer  were  to 
come,  when  all  would  be  alive  with  a  multiplied  and  in 
cessant  activity  toward  completion.  The  great  timbers 


HOLIDAYS  IN  THE  CRESCENT.  387 

got  thorough  seasoning  through  wet  and  dry,  even  while 
they  were  bent  to  place  in  the  majestic  skeleton  of 
what  was  to  be  perfected  into  a  living  thing.  Some 
thing  like  this,  perhaps  —  this  slow  forming  of  essential 
frame  in  a  sure  strength  that  shall  be  guarantee  of  safety 
for  all  superstructure  —  goes  on  in  the  times  when  lit 
tle,  noticeably,  seems  to  be  urging  toward  the  finished 
achievement  of  our  human  destiny. 

A  winter  in  town  is,  of  course,  not  a  shut-up,  inac 
tive  season  to  people  who  can  choose  pursuits  and  com 
mand  opportunity.  There  was  society,  plenty  of  it, 
both  in  a  refined  quietness  and  in  occasional  gayeties ; 
gay,  because  they  were  in  those  times  occasional,  and 
not  six  a  day.  There  was  always  public  entertainment, 
—  music,  plays,  readings,  charitable  sales,  and  shows. 
Something  was  always  going  on,  though  the  whole  pub 
lic  was  not  everywhere  at  once. 

Estabel  made  a  long  visit  in  Casino  Crescent,*  and 
was  in  the  midst  and  reach  of  all,  sharing  in  it  at  her 
own  pleasure.  What  Miss  Henslee  did  not  do  outside, 
the  Brithwaites  welcomed  her  to  do  with  them.  She 
was  very  differently  placed  from  the  schoolgirl  of  a  year 
or  two  ago.  She  saw  things  from  a  new  point  of  view. 
She  realized  that  there  was  a  society  of  which  that 
which  had  offended  and  rejected  her  was  only  the  sham, 
however  nearly  circles  might  from  mere  circumstance 
touch  or  temporarily  coincide.  There  was  a  spirit 
above  any  mean  distinction  or  exclusion,  and  yet  careful 
by  inherent  delicacy  in  individual  discrimination.  There 
was  no  "keeping  out,"  nor  "getting  in;"  the  right 
elements  drew  together,  and  that  was  all  there  was 
about  it. 

There  was  a  gentle  tact  that  appeared  in  arrangement 
by  which  any  one  a  little  exceptionally  chosen  should  be 
brought  into  no  possible  uncordial  contact,  but  by  quiet 
degrees  be  drawn  forward  instead  to  such  congenial  ap 
preciation  that  gradually  nothing  exceptional  remained, 


388  SQUARE  PEGS. 

unless  it  were  the  position  of  such  as  might  have  held 
aloof  at  first,  and  found  themselves  self-relegated  to 
remoteness  at  the  last. 

This  was  naturally  more  evident  where  a  wise,  kind 
management  controlled.  Young  people  could  not  form 
their  world ;  they  found  it  ready  made,  and  accepted 
or  refused  accordingly.  There  was  conventionalism 
enough,  even  here,  to  make  the  tact  just  spoken  of  a 
necessity  in  dealing  with  it. 

At  Christmas  time  the  whole  Stillwick  household  had 
been  invited  in  to  keep  the  holiday.  A  close  carriage, 
with  foot  warmer  and  rugs,  had  brought  the  Gladmother 
comfortably  from  door  to  door;  and  for  a  bright,  happy 
home  week  she  and  Lilian  had  occupied  the  large  and 
little  front  rooms  overlooking  the  wide,  open  Crescent, 
and  here  again  the  south  sunshine  poured  in  through  the 
carefully  suspended  prisms  that,  whatever  else  might  be 
dispensed  with,  were  never  left  behind ;  and  the  farthest 
spaces  of  the  stately  old  apartment  were  filled  with  ten 
der  touches  of  the  light  in  every  place  the  same,  and  in 
every  place  a  revelation  of  the  same  infinite  gladness 
and  glory. 

This  holiday  time  had  given  Estabel  the  beginning  of 
certain  new  insights  which  were  to  be  clue  and  sugges 
tion  to  much  after  thinking  and  doing.  It  is  this  after 
thinking  which  we  shall  have  to  follow  to  the  after  act. 

For  one  thing,  as  the  weeks  went  on,  she  could  not 
help  perceiving  how  she  herself  was  growing  to  be  more 
and  more  regarded  in  the  Henslee  family.  Mr.  Hens- 
lee  treated  her  as  a  daughter ;  Aunt  Lucy  was  what 
Aunt  Lucy  had  always  been,  only  with  a  stronger  as 
suredness,  a  more  settled  conclusion.  It  became  plain 
to  Estabel  that  they  looked  upon  her  as  quite  belonging 
to  themselves.  Why  was  it  ?  Was  she  so  independ 
ently  dear  to  them,  or  did  it  mean  something  more  ? 
Was  anything  going  to  be  expected  of  her  ?  She  felt 
a  something  in  the  air;  she  hardly  knew  whether  it 


HOLIDAYS  IN  THE  CRESCENT.  389 

exhilarated  or  depressed  her.      She  was  happy,  and  yet 
she  was  half  afraid. 

Harry  was  the  same  old,  frank,  bright,  kindly  com 
rade.  Brighter  and  more  kindly,  if  possible,  than  ever, 
in  certain  ways.  He  seemed  sometimes  to  purposely 
make  the  most  of  their  mutually  intimate  relation ;  to 
come  to  her  with  communications  and  questions  about 
his  own  affairs ;  to  test,  almost,  how  far  and  how  much 
their  reciprocal  sympathy  and  help  might  reach.  He 
looked  at  her  sometimes,  as  if  he  were  considering, 
measuring;  but  then  that  had  always  been  his  way; 
certainly,  he  had  always  been  solicitous  for  her  to  show 
her  best  and  claim  her  utmost,  according  to  his  idea  of 
best  and  utmost.  If  she  ever  failed,  it  aggrieved  him 
personally;  when  she  succeeded,  he  was  proud  with  a 
kind  of  possessive  pride.  Surely  that  was  no  common 
interest  and  regard.  And  now  there  was  often  a  kind 
of  glad  expression,  as  of  a  satisfied  triumph,  both  in  his 
look  and  speech,  as  he  observed  her.  But  what  was 
this  a  triumph  over?  What  uncertainty  was  now  and 
then  appeased?  And  when  would  he  have  done  apprais 
ing  her? 

What  did  he  want  ?  What  did  they  all  want  ?  What 
did  she  herself  want  ? 

Something  she  could  never  have,  perhaps.  Some 
thing  that  could  never,  altogether,  be  found  or  gained 
in  any  human  combination  of  character  or  event. 

She  had  a  dream,  but  it  did  not  seem  like  a  whole 
dream.  The  elements  of  a  round  reality  were  not  all 
there.  There  was  an  opposition,  a  contradiction. 
Where  there  was  a  grand,  unswerving  righteousness  of 
nature,  there  was  a  hard,  unfair,  unwilling  self-presen 
tation.  Where  there  was  easy,  pleasant  conformity, 
there  was  an  inward  something  of  strength  apparently 
lacking.  Which,  after  all,  was  the  most  real?  Was 
it  only  that  she  liked  the  difficult,  coveted  the  with 
held?  Might  not  hardness,  in  a  certain  way,  indeed, 


390  SQUARE  PEGS. 

be  weakness,  and  the  most  gentle,  generous,  happy  de 
monstration  come  from  the  entire  harmony  that  is 
strongest  of  all  ? 

She  had  talked  with  Lilian  Hawtree  one  day  about 
Harry  Henslee. 

"If  he  would  only  be  a  little  bit  superior  to  — 
things,"  she  said. 

"I  don't  think  you  are  quite  fair  to  him,"  Lilian 
had  answered.  "I  think  you  are  too  much  given  to 
theory,  and  admire  it  too  much  in  stiffly  theoretical 
people.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  life  full  of  brightness 
and  kindness  to  everybody  is  the  best  outcome  of  theory, 
and  that  some  persons  live  that  way  without  much  the 
ory  at  all.  Mr.  Harry  Henslee  doesn't  trouble  so 
much  about  what  he  does  things  for,  as  how  he  can  do 
the  most  to  make  everything  nice  for  everybody. 
Doesn't  that  work  out,  in  the  end,  to  quite  the  same 

—  or  to  more  of  it  —  as  a  fierce  insisting  upon  reasons 
why,  and  a  settling  of  how  all  the  world  ought  to  be 
put  to  rights?      Is  n't  it  the  way  of  the  leaven?  " 

And  then  Estabel  was  reminded  of  the  Gladmother's 
word  of  the  Lord's  inner  place  with  every  one,  out  of 
which  the  life  flows. 

Did  Lilian  see  deeper  than  she,  with  all  her  search 
ing  and  analysis,  could  find  out  ?  How  had  she  made 
so  sure  of  this  nobler  solution  of  Harry's  easy,  adapt 
able  bonhomie  ? 

And  how  her  face  had  lighted,  while  she  vindicated 
him! 

Yet  still,  Estabel  knew  within  herself,  without  con 
fession,  that  a  courteous  greeting  from  Ulick  North  — 
his  coming  to  her  side  for  a  moment,  perhaps,  in  a 
crowded  hall,  between  the  numbers  of  a  concert  recital, 

—  a  lifting  of  his  hat  to  her  with  a  smile  in  the  street  — 
was  more  to  her  than  all  Harry  Henslee 's  daily,  kindly 
assiduities. 

It  was  without   confession.      She   thought   she   com- 


HOLIDAYS   IN   THE   CRESCENT.  391 

pared  abstractly.  But  she  still  wished  for  Harry  some 
thing  more  of  that  uncompromising  strength  which  made 
concession  rare  and  beautiful. 

Ought  she  to  look  behind  the  manner  with  him,  and 
believe  in  the  strong  source  of  the  sweetness? 

Might  the  sweetness  and  the  peace  of  her  own  life 
depend  upon  it  ? 

She  had  already  taught  herself,  through  the  Gladmo- 
ther's  lesson,  to  look  behind  the  roughness  to  the  possi 
ble  gentleness  in  Ulick  North.  Perhaps  she  was  more 
than  willing  so  to  look,  that  she  might  escape  the  pain 
of  the  roughness.  But  she  had  not  thought,  until  Lilian 
said  it,  of  so  looking  to  find  a  hidden  force  in  Harry 
Henslee.  To  her  mind  this  was  something  very  like 
Samson's  riddle. 

The  relation  between  Dr.  North  and  herself  was  now 
that  of  a  sufficiently  gracious,  well-mannered  acquaint 
anceship.  He  met  her  accidentally;  he  came  to  the 
Crescent  once  in  a  while.  He  had,  on  his  part,  dis 
missed  unreasonable  resentment ;  he  would  not  betray 
himself  —  to  himself  —  by  that ;  but  he  was  cautious  of 
'reminder  and  recurrence.  He  relinquished  her,  appar 
ently,  to  those  who  had  such  earlier  and  better  right. 
The  intimacy  of  Mount  Street,  where  a  common  kinship 
and  connection  had  made  them  as  of  one  family,  was 
all  over.  Evidently,  Estabel  thought,  he  did  not  care 
to  have  such  days  back  again.  And  she  —  well,  she 
could  do  without  them. 

Without  doubt,  she  was  just  where  many  a  girl  de 
cides  between  that  which  her  nature  craves  and  that 
which  offers ;  and  takes,  as  Ulick  North  had  expressed 
it  to  himself  in  cynical  forecast  for  her,  "the  easy 
way." 

One  thing  had  occurred  in  the  early  spring  at  which 
Estabel  was  simply  and  instantly  indignant,  without 
pause  to  ask  herself  or  Harry  whether  it  might  be  dif 
ferently  understood  than  on  the  face  of  it. 


392  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Estabel  had  been  at  her  home  in  Stillwick  since  the 
middle  of  January ;  she  would  not  stay  altogether  away, 
even  where  it  was  almost  as  much  home  to  her,  and 
where,  in  every  possible  way,  she  was  persuaded  to  feel 
so.  But  early  in  March  she  came  again.  They  wanted 
her,  they  said,  for  ever  so  many  plans.  Harry  —  who 
might  have  been  an  artist  if  he  had  not  been  born  and 
trained  to  be  a  merchant,  and  in  whose  hand  a  pencil 
moved  like  that  of  a  spiritually  controlled  planchette, 
to  any  little  illustration  of  the  thought  or  whim  of  the 
moment  —  was  to  make  a  design  for  the  figurehead  of 
the  Goldenrod,  and  wanted  Estabel' s  ideas  and  coun 
sel.  Also,  Easter  fell  early  this  year,  and  Mr.  Henslee 
and  his  sister  had  determined  to  open  their  house  for 
a  somewhat  general  party.  Of  course,  Estabel  must  be 
there  for  that,  and  a  quiet  time  previously  would  be 
needed  for  the  other  affairs.  There  were  plenty  of 
reasons,  and  there  was  really  no  reason  why  not ;  so  she 
came. 

It  was  when  the  immediate  arrangements  for  the  en 
tertainment  were  under  consideration,  and  the  invitation 
list  in  final  discussion,  that  the  offense  to  Estabel  arose. 
But  that  was  not  until  nearly  three  weeks  from  her 
arrival,  three  weeks  in  which  there  had  been  so  much 
that  was  interesting  and  happy  and  successful  that  it 
would  hardly  seem  possible  any  even  momentary  break 
should  disturb  such  established  serenity. 

Estabel  had  at  once  proposed  the  subject  for  the 
figurehead,  —  a  girl,  stepping  forward,  the  lap  of  her 
gown  gathered  up  in  one  hand,  out  of  which  drooped, 
as  from  a  cornucopia,  a  light,  splendid  sheaf  of  golden 
blossoms  that  were  to  be  veritably  richly  gilded  in  the 
carving;  and  in  the  other  hand  held  forth  and  up,  with 
gesture  of  infinite  spirit,  a  tall  cluster  of  the  same  for 
ensign  and  augury.  This  was  to  be  the  stately  and 
jubilant  gracing  of  the  prow  of  the  Goldenrod,  bound 
for  the  "Golden  South  Americas." 


HOLIDAYS  IN   THE  CRESCENT.  393 

Harry  had  sketched  it  rapidly  at  first;  then  he  care 
fully  worked  out  a  copy  in  detail.  When  it  was  done, 
they  all  exclaimed  joyfully  at  its  beauty. 

"You  have  made  it  look  like"  -  Estabel  said  sud 
denly;  then  checking  herself,  "somebody  I  certainly 
have  seen, "  she  added  warily.  She  had  caught  a 
swift  expression  of  annoyed  consciousness  in  Harry's 
face.  Then  she  knew  that  he  had  more  or  less  de 
signedly  made  it  look  like  Lilian. 

"I  have  made  it  look  as  much  as  I  found  possible 
like  the  prettiest  woman's  face  I  could  compound  from 
all  the  loveliest  impressions  I  have  ever  got.  I  dare 
say  it  looks  like  somebody  —  like  several  somebodies, " 
he  answered  coolly. 

But  this  was  not  what  angered  Estabel.  She  only 
put  it  away  among  other  recent  ponderings.  We  are 
coming  to  what  did  affront  her. 

It  was  over  the  invitation  list,  and  the  making  of 
Aunt  Lucy's  programme  for  the  important  evening,  and 
her  memoranda  of  things  and  service  to  be  needed. 

"You  will  want  a  '  german, '  I  suppose?  "  she  said  to 
Harry. 

"Why,  of  course,  auntie!  It  wouldn't  wind  up  at 
all  without  a  german." 

"It  used  to  be  the  Virginia  Reel,"  said  Aunt  Lucy. 

"It's  the  german  now;  and  the  party  won't  stop 
without  it." 

"Certainly,  then,  it  will  have  to  be;  we  don't  pro 
pose  to  give  up  the  rest  of  our  lives  to  the  function. 
And  if  'german,'  then  favors.  You'll  have  to  favor 
me  with  all  the  necessary  information.  I  have  n't  an 
idea  what  to  get,  or  to  what  extent." 

"Oh,  "said  Estabel,  "there  's  where  we  need  Lilian. 
She  could  contrive  favors  beautifully.  She  's  full  of 
invention,  and  her  execution  keeps  up  with  it.  You 
can't  imagine  anything  —  pretty  and  good  —  that  she 
can't  do." 


394  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Why  shouldn't  she  be  here  for  the  whole  time?  I 
wonder  why  I  hadn't  thought,"  said  kind  Aunt  Lucy. 

Harry's  face  took  expression  of  as  decided,  although 
different,  disconcertedness  as  it  had  worn  on  occasion 
of  the  figurehead  impeachment. 

"She  wouldn't  like  that,  at  all,"  he  said  quickly. 
"It  isn't  in  her  line.  She  doesn't  dance  the  german." 

"How  do  you  know?  "  flashed  out  Estabel.  "Have  n't 
I  just  said  there  's  nothing  she  can't  do?  " 

"Well,  she  sha'n't  come  here  and  decorate,  and  then 
sit  and  decorate  a  corner  herself  the  whole  evening. 
And  that 's  what  it  would  he." 

"Harry!  I'm  ashamed  of  you!  Lilian  is  lovely 
down  atStillwick;  and  she'll  do  —  anonymously  —  to 
decorate  "  —  but  there,  again,  Estabel  had  the  mag 
nanimity,  in  the  midst  of  her  displeasure,  to  stop; 
"but  you  don't  think  she  '11  do  here  in  the  Crescent, 
at  a  tony  party!  I  've  a  great  mind  to  go  right  home 
myself. " 

And  with  that  she  swept  forth  past  him,  out  of  the 
room. 

"I  don't  think  Estabel  understands,"  said  Aunt 
Lucy. 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  take  the  trouble  to  make  her," 
Harry  replied  loftily. 

Whether  or  not  it  came  to  her,  as  explanations  after 
the  fact  do  come,  that  it  might  be  partly,  at  least,  on 
Lilian's  own  account  that  Harry  had  objected,  the  little 
breeze  blew  over,  and  Estabel  said  no  more.  Harry's 
dignified  silence  on  the  point  may  have  suggested  to  her 
a  conscious  sense  of  justification  on  his  part,  that  would 
not  condescend  to  ask  justification  from  her.  And 
possibly  she  may  have  guessed  a  little  more,  once  on 
the  trail,  of  that  which  might  be  the  truth.  What  she 
had  in  the  old  time  —  a  year  or  two  back  is  old  time 
witli  the  young  —  regarded  as  his  bit  of  snobbishness  in 
her  own  case,  might  have  been  a  touchiness  for,  rather 


HOLIDAYS   IN  THE   CRESCENT.  395 

than  against  her ;   a  sensitiveness,  through  a  really  gen 
erous  sympathy,  to  what  she  might  have  to  encounter. 

But  would  he  be  brave  enough  to  carry  out  this  gen 
erosity  of  feeling  to  a  full  generosity  of  act  ?  Was  he, 
or  was  he  not,  inseparably  a  part  of  the  world  as  he 
knew  it,  irretrievably  committed  to  its  judgment,  of 
whose  judgment  he  was  afraid  in  behalf  of  those  for 
whom  he  personally  cared  ? 

She  could  not  answer  these  questions  yet.  She  tried 
to  give  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 

So  she  was  kind  to  him  again  with  something  like  an 
apologetic  kindness,  though  she  could  not,  from  a  full 
persuasion,  offer  him  the  frank  amend  of  words.  She 
could  not  go  to  him  —  as  it  would  have  been  her  honest 
nature  to  do  —  with,  "  Harry,  I  take  back  what  I  said ; 
I  believe  I  was  mistaken. "  She  might,  after  all,  have 
to  take  that  back. 

Harry  accepted  the  tacit  apology;  he  would  have 
hated  an  open  one ;  he  supposed  she  had  had  the  sense, 
on  reflection,  to  see  for  herself.  Besides,  it  was  not 
easy  for  him  to  maintain  displeasure  with  anybody; 
with  Estabel,  and  under  his  father's  loving  observation 
of  them  both,  it  was  impossible. 

Another  thing  that  Estabel  did  not  fully  comprehend 
was  the  strong  affection  for  this  "grandest  old  parent," 
which  could  not  only  shape  Harry's  course  to  Mr.  Hens- 
lee's  desire,  but  even  effectually  stand  in  the  way  of 
what  might  otherwise  have  been  his  own.  If  he  ever 
put  it  to  himself  in  words  that  a  new  power  of  love  was 
gaining  possession  of  him,  which  was  giving  this  "new 
kind  of  girl  altogether  "  the  real  dominance  in  his  life, 
he  would,  up  to  this  time  at  least,  have  thrust  it  aside 
with  the  consideration,  "It  would  disappoint  my  father 
so." 

Miss  Henslee  ceased  to  be  disturbed.  She  thought 
she  saw  that  all  had  been  made  right  again  between  the 
two ;  such  little  ups  and  downs  were  characteristic  of  the 


396  SQUARE   PEGS. 

very  circumstances  she  wished  for;  a  certain  intolerance 
of  fault  was  surest  evidence  of  intimate  personal  con 
cern;  one  is  only  minutely  critical  of  quality  where  one 
is  making  important  choice  for  one's  self. 

The  Eastertide  party  came  off  bravely;  the  best  of 
Topthorpe  was  there,  old  and  young,  rejoicing  that  the 
fine  old  mansion  was  again  brilliantly  thrown  open  to 
social  amenities  and  delights ;  and  Estabel  was  a  centre 
here,  receiving  honors  paid,  perhaps,  as  much  prospec- 
tively  as  to  her  undoubted  present  personal  deserving, 
which  people  seemed  all  at  once  not  slow  to  discover. 

It  was  pleasure  to  her;  no  young  girl  can  resist  the 
charm  of  a  cordiality  which  confesses  her  charming. 
But  it  did  not  hold  all  possible  gladness  for  her ;  there 
was  a  part  of  her  which  was  not  satisfied  nor  touched  — 
something  that  still  waited,  as  it  had  waited  all  her  life. 

Nothing  more  had  been  said  about  Lilian;  it  had 
been  wiser,  even  kinder,  so.  Estabel,  out  of  her  own 
experience,  could  feel  keen  jealousy  for  her  friend, 
and  she  blamed  nobody,  although  she  missed  her.  But 
for  intense  happiness,  a  summer  morm'ng  in  the  woods 
by  the  river  together  —  a  bright  day  at  Henslee  Place 
—  such  an  hour  as  they  had  had  once  in  the  wonderful 
Hall  of  Plants  —  either  of  these  would  have  been  more 
than  worth  all  this. 

Of  something  yet  beyond  —  a  companionship  and 
sympathy  yet  higher  and  profounder,  that  she  might 
grow  to  and  have  given  her  in  the  great,  rich  giving 
of  an  enlarging  and  wholly  answering  life  —  of  this  her 
thought  was  vague,  but  the  inceptive  imagination  and 
yearning  were  within  her ;  they  were  the  hidden  promise 
that  made  it  lovely,  and  yet  a  lovely,  hazard,  to  live  on. 

Dr.  North  declined  his  invitation  to  the  party ;  he 
did  not  go  a-frolicking,  he  said.  But  he  made  a  proper 
evening  call  afterward,  and  behaved  with  a  kindly  ami 
ability  that  was  evidently  intended,  and  was  graciously 
received  as  due  acknowledgment. 


HOLIDAYS  IN   THE  CRESCENT.  397 

After  that,  Estabel  had  gone  home.  She  carried 
with  her  a  quiet,  happy  recollection  of  the  later,  tran 
quil  evening.  The  dance  and  its  excitement  dropped 
hack  into  the  past. 

Dr.  North  had  been  at  his  best  and  nicest.  It  was 
so  necessary  for  her  to  think  well  of  anybody  whom 
she  liked. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

"WE    UNDERSTAND." 

WE  will  go  on  from  the  point  at  which  we  paused  to 
glance  backward,  that  we  might  see  what  the  intervening 
time  had  done  to  determine  the  individual  bearing  and 
relation  of  our  little  group  of  friends,  before  following 
the  further  line  of  incident  in  their  simple  lives. 

Summer  had  come  round  again ;  they  were  all  a  year 
older.  That  statement  involved  the  rapid  retrospect. 
One  cannot  wholly  skip  a  year,  even  in  trying  to  con 
solidate  a  history ;  for  history  makes,  silently,  all  the 
time. 

We  have  not  particularized  in  regard  to  Lilian  Haw- 
tree;  we  can  take  her  up  at  any  point,  and  find  herself 
and  her  position,  as  we  find  the  North  Star  and  its 
aspect,  always  in  the  same  heavenly  and  earthly  rela 
tion.  Her  life  was  so  largely  and  truly  in  the  life  of 
others  —  not  so  much  in  self-abnegation  as  by  a  divine 
capacity  for  entering  in,  with  the  Divine,  to  the  heart- 
interest  of  every  human  soul  —  that  really  all  life  about 
her  was  luminous  to  her,  as  by  the  revealing  of  the  fine, 
mysterious  gleams  of  a  spiritual  light,  of  which  the  then 
undiscovered  physical  rays  are  emblem  and  suggestion. 
And  this  is  the  blessedness  God's  children  were  made 
to  give  and  take  in  mutual  enrichment.  Heaven  does 
not  forget  the  great,  sweet  selves  who  know  not  how 
to  be  selfish.  The  Lord  himself  is  selfish  for  them. 
That  which  they  pour  out  upon  others  returns  to  them 
as  they  look  not  for  it,  and  centres  in  their  own  being. 
A  full  tide  of  the  universal  joy  that  is  divided  to  go 


«  WE  UNDERSTAND."  399 

round,  flows,  soon  or  late,  into  the  hearts   that  can  so 
widen  to  receive  the  promised  measure. 

This  new,  beautiful  summer  was  full  of  a  certain 
strange  delight  to  Lilian,  —  the  keen  delight  that  often 
touches  pain,  but  of  which  the  pain  is  all  ignored.  She 
saw  the  story  growing;  she  knew  what  was  hoped  for, 
—  what  seemed  certainly  coming  to  pass,  — and  she  was 
glad  with  a  gladness  that  moved  unsounded  depths  in 
her  own  nature.  She  was  loving  and  beloved  by  repre 
sentation  ;  all  the  rich  and  happy  future  that  lay  before 
these  two  made  intensest  hope  and  wishful  solicitude 
for  her.  It  would  be  so  sad  if  it  should  miss.  But  it 
could  not  miss.  It  was  certainly  going  to  be.  There 
would  be  this  much  more  happiness  in  the  dear,  happy 
world. 

No  one,  not  capable  of  the  same  self-transfer,  or 
something  like  it,  can  comprehend  why  the  keen  percep 
tion  did  not  reflect  and  betray  to  consciousness  what  in 
a  different  spirit  might  have  turned  to  a  sharp  or  bitter 
coveting.  It  is  so  hard,  until  we  are  full-born  into  the 
light,  to  see  a  good  without  the  small,  appropriative 
instinct  to  grasp  and  to  possess  it.  In  the  spiritual 
babyhood  we  snatch  and  cry. 

Harry  Henslee  said  to  himself  in  these  days,  not,  "It 
would  disappoint  my  father  so, "  but,  "  It  would  please 
my  father  so." 

He  even  asked  himself  why  he  should  not  be  happy. 
He  had  known  Estabel  all  his  life.  She  was  thoroughly 
companionable  to  him.  He  liked  her  strength,  when  it 
did  not  presuppose  and  set  itself  against  his  weakness. 
And  it  was  only  in  the  judgment  of  an  unsparing 
strength  like  hers  that  he  was  weak.  He  had  the 
quiet,  every-day  wisdom  that  took  things  as  they  were, 
and  believed  that  they  could  be  made  better,  when  it 
needed,  without  any  rude  overturning.  He  liked  his 
fellow  mortals,  and  did  not  hypercriticise  them.  Be 
tween  him  and  Estabel,  all  these  matters  would  settle 


400  SQUARE  PEGS. 

themselves,  he  thought.  "All  that  will  pass  over,"  his 
father  had  said. 

At  any  rate,  it  seemed  to  him  that  after  all  that  the 
years  had  heen  leading  up  to  and  making  evident,  the 
right  of  choice  lay  with  Estabel.  If  she  cared  —  and 
if  his  father  intensely  desired  —  then  so  let  it  he.  It 
came  to  this  point  in  his  mind,  and  I  think  that  rather 
than  of  weakness  it  was  of  strength.  He  would  do  all 
that  his  father  asked ;  there  would  be  no  absolute  satis 
faction  to  himself  in  leaving  it  undone.  He  took  no 
note  of  the  suggestion  that  if  he  failed,  it  would  be  to 
become  free.  He  honestly  decided  that  he  would  give 
the  thing  its  chance.  Even  in  his  own  nearest  interests, 
he  was  of  the  temperament  to  take  his  world  as  it  was, 
rather  than  turn  it  violently  upside  down. 

There  was  immediate  planning  about  the  Golden- 
rod.  She  was  almost  ready  for  her  launching.  There 
was  soon  to  be  a  little  party  of  house  visitors  who 
should  be  asked  to  stay  for  the  ceremony,  —  several 
from  Peaceport,  a  few  from  Topthorpe.  Others  would 
be  there  for  the  day,  merely.  It  was  likely  to  be  a 
gay,  notable  company.  A  good  deal  was  to  be  done, 
and  many  little  matters  of  detail  to  be  decided. 

"They  want  me  at  the  Place  to-day,"  said  Estabel, 
coming  into  the  shop  parlor.  "Harry  has  walked  over 
for  me." 

Harry  had  not  followed  her  in.  For  some  reason  he 
had  stopped  out  in  the  shady  back  porch,  where  he 
drank  a  cool  dipperful  of  water  from  the  well,  and  then 
picked  up  the  blue  kitten,  as  he  called  Estabel' s  little 
Maltese  cat,  and  sat  down  to  play  with  it  on  the  door- 
stone.  He  had  met  Estabel  there,  feeding  it,  as  he 
came  up  through  the  garden. 

Aunt  Esther  had  a  message  to  send  to  Cousin  Lucy, 
and  an  inquiry  to  make,  upon  which  errand  she  went  out, 
found  the  young  man  teaching  the  kitten  to  jump  over  his 
hands,  and  further  detained  him,  instead  of  asking  him  in. 


"  WE  UNDERSTAND."  401 

The  two  girls  were  left  alone  for  a  moment. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  come  too,"  said 
Estabel. 

"But  I  do,"  Lilian  answered,  smiling.  "Not  asked 
there ;  and  wanted  here.  I  'm  not  exactly  a  piece  of 
you,  you  know,  however  attached  we  are." 

"Separation  is  a  hard  thing,  sometimes.  I  wonder 
if  we  shall  ever  have  to  go  different  ways."  Estabel 
spoke  with  a  gravity  hardly  accounted  for  by  the  situa 
tion. 

"I  don't  think  there  are  any  different  ways."  And 
then  Lilian  grew  grave  also.  "I  think  —  sometimes  — 
may  I  say  so,  Estabel?  —  that  in  some  things  you  don't 
exactly  know  your  own  mind.  I  think  you  are  meant 
to  be  a  very  happy  woman." 

Estabel  looked  for  a  second  intently  into  the  sweet, 
warm  face  and  the  depth  of  the  searchlight  eyes.  Then 
she  changed  her  gravity  to  an  odd  sort  of  fun. 

"  You  think  —  and  you  think  —  and  you  think !  / 
think  you  are  in  a  terrible  hurry  to  be  a  very  happy 
angel !  " 

She  took  the  uplifted  face  between  her  hands,  kissed 
Lilian,  and  left  her. 

They  stopped  halfway  through  the  wood,  where  the 
pine  fragrance  was  richest,  under  a  tenting  of  boughs 
over  a  soft,  needle-filled  hollow,  and  sat  down  in  their 
old  fashion,  in  one  of  their  wonted  places,  upon  a 
lichened  log. 

Harry  had  something  to  say,  and  he  took  for  granted 
the  pause  in  which  to  say  it. 

Words  hardly  ever  impend  that  do  not  give  the  pre 
monition  of  their  coming.  Estabel  knew  that  a  mo 
ment  had  arrived  that  there  was  no  use  in  evading,  that 
she  had  no  least  wish  to  evade.  Whether  she  might  per 
haps  control  or  modify  its  announcement,  might  effect 
decision  without  categorical  explanation,  was  another 
matter.  All  her  feminine  diplomacy  sprang  up,  alert, 


402  SQUARE  PEGS. 

to  do  this.  She  did  not  want  to  refuse  Harry  Henslee. 
She  did  not  wish  him  to  have  to  remember,  by  and  by, 
that  he  had  put  himself  in  a  false  position. 

"In  two  weeks  the  Goldenrod  is  to  be  launched," 
he  said. 

"I  know,"  responded  Estabel. 

"And  I  suppose  you  know  what  they  expect  of  us?  " 

"To  be  on  board;  to  christen  her;  and  to  be  launched 
in  her." 

"Exactly.  Don't  you  know  that  they  would  be  glad 
that  it  should  be  our  launching  ?  " 

Estabel  was  delighted  that  he  had  put  it  so,  —  what 
"they  expected;  "  what  "they  would  be  glad  of."  If 
she  could  only  keep  it  all  in  that  third-person  form  of 
statement ! 

"I  think  they  thought  of  it  long  ago;  before  the 
Goldenrod  was  thought  of.  And  now  they  have  set 
their  hearts  upon  it, "  he  continued. 

"Isn't  that  a  pity?  Because,  of  course,  that  could 
never  be  enough." 

Estabel  broke  a  leaf  of  wintergreen  from  a  stem  she 
held  in  her  hand,  and  put  its  tip  daintily  between  her 
teeth.  "  How  shall  we  get  their  hearts  off  from  it  ?  " 

She  looked  sidewise,  mischievously,  at  him.  Senti 
ment,  if  he  had  begun  with  it,  could  hardly  have  per 
sisted  against  that  look.  And  yet  there  was  something 
provocative  of  all  the  sentiment  that  was  really  in  him 
toward  her,  in  that  little  mockery  of  hers. 

"Must  we  do  that?  "  he  asked  her. 

It  was  time  now.  Another  word  might  change  the 
whole  third-personal  into  first,  discussion  into  appeal, 
that  would  seem  to  be  incumbent. 

"  Harry, "  —  and  she  threw  the  leaf  and  stem  away 
from  her,  and  turned  and  faced  him  without  disguise  or 
hesitation,  —  "you  know  that  we  do  not  care  for  each 
other  in  that  way.  And  we  are  really  too  fond  of  each 
other  to  make  such  a  mistake." 


"WE  UNDERSTAND."  403 

Well,  this  was  bluntness.  This  was  going  to  the 
root  of  the  matter,  without  any  douht.  He  looked  at 
her,  not  thinking  at  the  instant  what  to  say.  Then  the 
absurdity  struck  them  both,  and  they  both  laughed. 

"If  that  is  your  ultimatum,"  Harry  began. 

"But  it  isn't.  There's  something  else.  Look  way 
into  your  heart,  Harry,  and  see  if  it  isn't  there.  I 
think  you  have  been  afraid  of  it,  and  that  is  why  you 
have  made  up  your  mind  to  come  to  me." 

She  stood  up  now.  There  was  something  just  a  wee 
bit  scornful,  or  ready  to  become  so,  in  her  tone. 

"No!  "  cried  Harry,  springing  also  to  his  feet. 
"I  '11  make  you  understand  me  now,  if  you  never  have 
before.  It  was  n't  that.  It  never  has  been  that,  that 
made  me  thin-skinned  and  cantankerous  about  things. 
I  just  can't  bear  to  have  anybody  I  think  much  of 
looked  down  upon  by  other  sorts  of  folks.  And  as  to 
speaking  to  you  — -  and  making  up  my  mind  about  you 
—  I  'd  do  a  good  deal  harder  thing  than  that  to  please 
my  father. " 

Estabel  held  out  her  hand.  "I  'm  on  your  side, 
now,  Harry.  And  it's  all  right.  You  haven't  made 
a  word  of  love  to  me,  and  I  did  n't  mean  you  should. 
AVe  've  just  talked  matters  over  and  we  understand. 
And  I  advise  you  to  tell  your  father  about  that  some 
thing  else.  You  don't  know  how  good  he  can  be  until 
you  try. " 

They  walked  along  the  wood  path  together  a  little 
way,  hand  in  hand.  AAThen  they  came  to  the  old  brook- 
crossing  at  the  stepping-stones,  Harry  went  first,  and 
gave  his  hand  again  to  Estabel,  and  helped  her  over. 
And  so,  without  thinking,  except  that  they  were  charm 
ingly  of  one  accord,  they  walked  on  up  the  slope  to 
gether,  and  near  the  garden  corner  met  Mr.  Henslee 
suddenly. 

He  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  with  a  kindly  smile. 
They  dropped  their  hands  apart  and  came  up  to  him. 


404  SQUARE   PEGS. 

"Is  it  all  right  between  you,  children?"  was  his 
greeting. 

"It  's  just  as  right  as  it  can  be,  dear  Mr.  Henslee. 
A  great  deal  righter  than  it  might  have  been." 

And  with  that  she  sped  past  him  into  the  house,  to 
Aunt  Lucy. 

"What  does  she  mean,  Harry?  " 

"It  means  —  that  she  knows  better.  And  she  is  apt 
to  be  radically  right,  you  know." 

Mr.  Henslee  did  not  relish  his  own  words  given  back 
to  him  so. 

"  Has  she  refused  you,  boy  ?  " 

"She  would  n't  let  there  be  anything  to  refuse, 
father.  But  we  like  each  other,  and  understand  each 
other,  more  completely  than  we  ever  did.  And  I  'in 
sure  that  what  you  really  want  is  to  see  everybody 
happy." 

It  was  so  true  that  Mr.  Henslee  took  his  disappoint 
ment  to  himself,  and  for  the  time,  at  least,  put  it  qui 
etly  by.  He  asked  nothing  more,  though  he  wondered 
how  the  strange  "understanding"  had  come  about. 

The  "something  else"  waited.  They  went  into  the 
house  together,  and  talked  with  Estabel  and  Aunt  Lucy 
about  the  decorating  of  the  Goldenrod,  and  the  pre 
liminary  entertainment  of  the  young  house  party. 

In  the  end,  after  all,  Mr.  Henslee  thought  everything 
might  come  right,  even  in  his  way.  For  there  had 
been  no  refusal. 

Either  there  was  still  hope,  or  Harry  was  particularly 
comfortable  without  hope.  Whichever  might  be  the 
case,  Mr.  Henslee  had  the  sense  to  see  that  there  was 
nothing  to  meddle  with,  or  reasonably  to  deplore. 

Aunt  Esther  was  sharper  at  discovery,  and  more  posi 
tive  in  her  conclusion.  That  Avas  partly  because  she 
was  a  woman,  and  partly  because  she  had  had  more 
continual  opportunity  for  weighing  and  balancing  proba 
bilities.  She  had  been  for  some  time  uncertain  about 


"  WE  UNDERSTAND."  405 

issues ;  perhaps  gradually  growing  to  be  a  little  divided 
in  her  own  wishes.  She  had  become  very  fond  of 
Lilian.  It  had  been  quite  as  much  for  the  girl's  sake, 
as  for  any  anxiety  concerning  tacit  family  plans,  that 
she  had  spoken  that  little  word  in  season  to  the  Glad- 
mother.  Not  for  all  the  family  plans  in  the  world,  nor 
for  her  own  most  essential  interests,  would  Esther  Char 
lock  have  schemed  or  moved  a  finger  in  underhanded 
interference. 

When  Estabel  came  back,  and  Harry  Henslee  left 
her  with  a  friendly  good-night  at  the  door,  she  was  a 
little  puzzled.  Nothing  seemed  to  have  occurred,  after 
all.  But  there  was  a  kind  of  relieved  cheerfulness  in 
Estabel 's  face  and  manner  all  the  evening,  and  in  her 
way  with  Lilian  a  certain  loving  wistfulness  that  showed 
in  a  soft  tone  and  a  look  that  dwelt  upon  her  as  with 
some  secret,  happy  thought  that  yet  had  doubt  in  it. 

Would  the  angel  take  the  gift  that  might  be  coming 
to  the  woman  ?  Would  she,  at  the  right  time,  under 
stand  herself,  having  so  little  self  ?  That  was  the  ques 
tion  in  her  thought,  as  she  watched  the  sweet,  uncon 
scious  composure  of  Lilian's  face;  and  although  Aunt 
Esther  did  not  translate  it  into  words,  she  read  the 
feeling,  and  set  it  alongside  the  other  equally  evident 
one. 

"She  looks  as  I  feel  when  I  've  got  through  a  job 
of  housecleaning.  She  's  got  something  off  her  mind. 
But  she  's  turning  round  now,  and  taking  up  something 
else  just  as  responsible." 

That  was  what  Aunt  Esther  divined  at  once,  and  it 
did  not  take  her  long  to  "ravel  it  all  out  "  for  herself 
in  a  pretty  close  approximation  to  the  fact. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE    SAUNSEE    MILLS. 

THE  approaching  launch  and  its  accompanying  fes 
tivities  at  Henslee  Place  were  stirring  the  whole  coun 
tryside  to  gayety.  It  was  a  great  thing  to  be  included 
in  the  house  party.  It  was  the  next  great  thing  to  be 
staying  in  the  neighborhood,  even  as  far  as  Peaceport 
and  Pequant.  Invitations  were  scattered  liberally  for 
the  launch  itself,  and  with  only  unavoidable  restriction 
to  house  and  grounds,  and  to  the  various  excursion  par 
ties  which  were  arranged  to  pass  the  time  pleasantly 
during  the  week  preceding  the  great  event,  which  was 
fitly  to  conclude  the  generously  extended  entertain 
ment. 

It  was  a  long  time  since  the  Stillwick  shipyards  had 
been  in  use  for  their  old,  fine  purpose  which  had  made 
wide  reputation  and  been  the  pride  of  the  coast  section 
of  the  county.  Mr.  Henslee  was  a  deeply  respected, 
highly  popular  man.  Memories  of  stately  hospitalities 
and  old  family  importance  gave  grace  and  distinction 
to  whatever,  in  later  and  busier  days,  revived  them. 
And  with  all  the  rest,  there  was  young  Harrison  Hens 
lee  coming  up  to  share  and  finally  possess  and  represent 
the  whole,  —  place,  wealth,  tradition.  No  small  inter 
est  and  speculation  gathered  around  him,  watching  his 
course  and  choice  in  life.  Rumor  had  circulated  that 
these  were  preordained.  Rumor  was  being  verified  as 
to  the  proposition  of  the  first  part ;  a  good  deal  might 
depend  upon  whether  the  verification  was  to  be  extended 
to  that  of  the  second.  This  launching  festival  might 


THE  SAUNSEE  MILLS.  407 

make  some  definite  disclosure;  it  could  hardly  help  giv 
ing  clue  and  color  to  probabilities. 

Every  Topthorpe  girl  who  had  a  school  or  society 
friend  in  Peaceport  made  interest  for  some  timely  ask 
ing  to  a  few  days'  stay.  Peaceport  people  were  hospi 
table  ;  there  was  scarcely  a  family,  of  a  certain  set,  that 
had  not  in  this  August  holiday  some  young  visitor. 
And  there  was  great  driving  to  and  fro,  and  trying  of 
the  new  railroad,  between  Peaceport  and  Stillwick. 

There  was  a  sketching  picnic  to  the  Saunsee  Mills. 
These  were  spinning  factories,  picturesquely  placed 
where  the  little  Saunsee  comes  into  Stillwick  River  be 
tween  Moonic  Ledges,  cutting  its  way  with  a  natural 
rush  and  incline  of  some  thirty  feet  in  half  a  mile,  and 
utilized  for  power  by  a  fine  dam  across  the  ravine,  a 
furlong  or  so  above  the  junction  of  the  streams. 

Lovely  woods  and  bits  of  view  abound ;  there  are 
grand  climbs  up  the  fir-grown  heights ;  a  little  way  be 
yond  the  mills  there  is  a  charming  hollow  glade  for 
lunching  convenience ;  and  the  mills  themselves,  with 
their  complete  and  delicate  machinery  and  their  pretty 
product,  afford  a  rationally  sufficient  object  for  the 
jaunt.  It  is  always  well  to  have  a  rational  object;  a 
few  people  will  always  care  for  that ;  and  it  chaperones, 
as  it  were,  all  incidental  and  general  amusement. 

The  morning  was  bright,  and  the  party  was  gay; 
large  enough  to  divide  into  groups,  and  choose  differ 
ently  among  the  attractions  of  the  place.  To  a  good 
many  it  was  sufficient  that  there  were  people ;  it  hardly 
mattered  where  the  people  went,  or  what  for,  so  that 
they  were  of  the  right  sort,  and  one  was  among  them. 
That  is  one  great  secret  of  associations,  clubs,  improve 
ment  societies,  benevolent  unions ;  it  often  does  not  seem 
to  signify  what  the  swarm  holds  on  to,  if  only  there  can 
be  a  swarm.  Doubtless  the  social  instinct  was  given 
for  good  and  happy  ends,  and  such  are  sometimes  sub 
served  by  it. 


408  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Estabfel  and  Lilian  really  wanted  to  see  the  mills, 
which  spun  such  famous  woolen  yarns,  from  heavy  car 
pet  fibres  to  fine,  soft,  delicate  threads  such  as  the 
Gladmother  knitted  up  into  lovely  little  shoulder  shawls 
and  baby  blankets  to  give  away. 

There  were  separate  ranges  of  buildings  for  the  differ 
ent  kinds  of  manufacture.  One  ran  along  the  river 
bank,  and  the  other  extended  back,  at  right  angles  to 
it.  Under  the  waterside  block,  at  its  lower  end,  across 
which  the  other  wing  stood  contiguous,  an  archway  in 
the  brickwork  of  the  ground  story  gave  entrance  through 
to  the  inclosed  mill  yard.  This  brick-walled  basement 
was  used  for  storage;  the  upper  chambers  held  the  run 
ning  works. 

"I  want  to  begin  at  the  beginning,"  Estabel  said. 

"And  at  the  foundation?  You  always  do,"  Harry 
answered  laughing.  "Come  down  here,  then."  And 
he  led  them  along  the  path  by  the  river  edge  behind  the 
mill,  to  the  outer  angle  of  the  main  structures,  where 
two  or  three  rough  steps  descended  to  the  power-house, 
projected  upon  strong  piers  above  the  water.  Here, 
underneath  the  plank  flooring,  that  palpitated  and 
jarred  with  the  incessant  regular  beat,  whirled  and 
churned  the  huge  turbine  wheel  in  the  mighty  urging  of 
the  current  sweeping  down  between  the  narrow  limits 
of  the  flume. 

Two  or  three  other  girls  had  come  with  them,  but 
most  people  wanted  only  to  see  the  thing  in  full  blast 
of  accomplishment,  and  had  already  gone  in  above,  to 
make  more  or  less  rapidly  the  usual  course  from  the 
"opening"  and  "blowing"  chambers,  and  the  carding 
and  lapping  rooms,  whence  the  fluff  soon  drove  them 
forward,  to  the  clearer  precincts,  where  they  could 
watch  the  pretty  slivering  and  roving  and  reeling,  and 
the  spinning  out  upon  broad  traveling  frames  of  the  in 
numerable  finished  threads,  that  wound  themselves  at 
last  upon  long  ranks  of  whirling  bobbins. 


THE  SAUNSEE  MILLS.  409 

"  What  a  dim,  dank,  doleful  hole !  "  said  one  girl, 
just  glancing  in  at  the  low  doorway  of  the  eerie-looking 
place  where  Harry  told  them  "the  party  began." 

"I  don't  think  I  care  about  foundations,"  she  de 
cided.  "Take  'em  for  granted.  I  've  no  doubt  they  're 
all  right.  When  you  are  satisfied,  come  back  to  com 
mon  daylight.  Good-by." 

And  she  sprang  lightly  up  the  steps  again,  followed 
by  one  of  her  companions. 

"That  archway  takes  you  through  to  the  mill  yard," 
Harry  Henslee  called  out  after  them.  "Go  in  at  the 
middle  door  on  the  left,  where  the  staircase  runs  up, 
and  you  '11  overtake  the  others." 

"It  's  just  as  well  to  have  only  a  few  here  at  a  time, " 
he  remarked,  as  he  rejoined  the  remaining  three,  and 
they  entered. 

The  third  girl  who  persisted  was  Corinna  Chilstone. 

Times  were  changed  since  the  days  at  Mr.  Satter- 
wood's,  and  the  "impregnable  castle,"  and  the  "not 
knowing  a  girl  because  you  happened  to  go  to  the  same 
school  with  her. "  There  are  schools  and  schools  ;  they 
were  in  another  one  now,  where  Estabel  was  taking  a 
degree  higher  than  Corinna  had  quite  come  to,  with  all 
her  precaution.  Estabel  Charlock  was  in  the  heart  of 
the  Henslee  home  and  intimacy ;  Harry  Henslee  was  the 
finest  young  fellow,  with  the  most  brilliant  prospects, 
of  any  they  knew  in  all  Topthorpe ;  so  Mr.  Chilstone 
said  to  his  wife,  more  than  once,  in  Corinna 's  hearing. 

Mrs.  Chilstone  could  not  do  much  in  Estabel's  direc 
tion  just  now;  she  had  refused  her  opportunity.  The 
Clymers  were  no  longer  their  neighbors ;  they  were  in 
Europe  — -  in  the  East  —  heaven  knew  where,  or  when 
they  would  come  back.  But  Mrs.  Chilstone  raised  the 
personal  interdict,  and  took  occasion  to  observe  that  it 
was  fortunate  for  the  girl  that  circumstances  had  changed 
her  Topthorpe  connection,  and  to  admit  that  under  suit 
able  conditions  she  individually  did  well  enough. 


410  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Condescension  or  patronage  would  be  supererogatory 
—  they  were  impossible  —  in  Casino  Crescent ;  the  only 
link  —  and  that  had  been  weakened,  as  far  as  small 
frictions  could  weaken  indissoluble  relationships  —  was 
with  Aunt  Brithwaite  and  Mary ;  both  Corinna  and  her 
mother  sought  diligently  to  undo  unfavorable  impression 
there. 

Corinna  spoke  with  unblushing  compliment  of  Estabel 
Charlock,  "come  out  so  very  well  after  all  her  school 
girl  betlses ;  "  and  laughed  at  herself  for  having,  per 
haps,  misjudged  her  in  a  hurry.  "You  can't  tell  about 
looks  or  style,  or  even  conduct,  by  the  way  a  girl  ap 
pears  at  fifteen, "  she  said,  with  tardy  magnanimity  and 
fresh  world- wisdom.  "She  may  change  altogether, 
just  as  the  color  of  her  hair  changes.  And  then,  of 
course,  other  people  change  their  minds." 

"Estabel  has  not  changed,"  said  Mrs.  Brithwaite 
quietly.  "There  is  more  of  her,  but  she  is  just  the 
same.  She  has  only  deepened  and  ripened." 

"  So  I  said,  like  the  color  of  her  hair ;  but  it  makes 
all  the  difference,"  said  the  unabashed  Corinna. 

Even  the  milliner's  shop  —  even  the  chosen  friend, 
the  carpenter's  daughter  and  milliner's  assistant  — 
these  facts  Avere  smoothed  over  now  with  a  tolerant  ac 
ceptance,  "under  present  conditions,"  in  which  so  much 
else,  of  highest  countenance  and  of  things  best  worth 
while,  were  involved.  The  self -called  "best  society" 
has  its  own  special  knack  and  privilege  of  smoothing 
over,  or  ignoring,  "under  conditions,"  far  worse  im 
peachments.  "The  king  —  the  royal  circle  —  can  do 
no  wrong, "  is  its  tacitly  adopted  motto. 

"People  can  always  do  as  they  like  in  the  country; 
what  is  quite  inadmissible  here  is  extremely  respectable 
there, "  Mrs.  Chilstone  pronounced,  with  majestic  con- 
donement.  "And  it  's  very  kind,  I  'm  sure,  the  way 
they  've  all  taken  up  that  little  Hawtree  girl,  who  is 
really  a  genius  in  a  certain  sort." 


THE  SAUNSEE  MILLS.  411 

Estabel  was  actually  in  a  position  to  "take  up;  "  it 
was  evident  that  she  was  past  the  point  for  being  put 
down. 

All  this  is  very  small  beer  to  chronicle ;  but  there  is 
a  vast  amount  of  small  beer  brewed  in  the  world,  and 
there  are  persons  of  whom  there  is  nothing  else  to 
chronicle. 

So  the  Chilstones  had  come  blandly  over  from  Pe- 
quant,  and  renewed  their  summer  acquaintance,  and 
been  invited,  with  the  Brithwaites  and  other  mutual 
social  foregatherers,  to  the  pleasant  doings  at  Stillwick ; 
and  so  to-day,  where  Harry  Henslee  led,  and  Estabel 
and  Lilian  followed,  Miss  Chilstone  found  it  instructive 
and  interesting  to  go  also ;  even  into  the  dim,  dank, 
noisy,  shuddering  "foundation"  of  things  at  the  mill. 

They  did  not  stop  here  long ;  Harry  simply  showed 
them  how  the  shaft  from  the  horizontal  water-wheel 
came  up  through  a  slot  in  the  flooring,  and  turned  the 
bevel-gear  wheel  that  was  also  horizontal  upon  the  same 
axis  at  its  top,  but  whose  slanting  ridges  and  grooves 
played  into  those  of  a  similar  one  set  perpendicularly 
to  it,  whose  shaft,  supported  in  a  heavy  block,  ran  on 
into  the  next  compartment  with  its  converted  motion. 
Toward  this  adjoining  room,  the  entrance  to  which 
opened  from  inside  the  arched  passage  between  the  mill 
buildings,  they  turned  their  steps  by  a  short  ascending 
footway. 

Here  the  long,  low  shaft  from  the  power-house 
crossed,  forming  the  axle  of  two  great,  upright,  partly 
sunken  motor  pulleys  that  ran  parallel,  at  a  distance 
from  each  other  of  some  two  or  three  yards,  their  strong 
beltings  passing  up  through  the  floor  above,  and  sever 
ally  connecting  with  the  machinery  of  the  upper  cham 
bers  of  the  two  wings  of  the  works,  conveying  into  their 
multiplied  complications  the  life  energy  of  the  whole. 

They  had  to  stand  close  together,  and  speak  loudly 
to  each  other,  for  the  space  was  small  and  filled  with 


412  SQUARE  PEGS. 

the  sound  of  rush  and  rumble,  swash  and  clank.  It 
was  a  little  more  possible  to  hear  and  be  heard  than  it 
had  been  in  the  power-house,  and  there  was  also  more 
light ;  and  Harry  proceeded  to  give  a  partly  detailed 
explanation  of  transmuted  motions,  making  some  slight, 
hasty  illustrations  with  pencil  and  tablet,  of  gear 
wheels,  cross-bands,  and  shaftings,  that  showed  the 
principle  at  a  glance. 

"You'll  see  a  good  deal  more  of  it  upstairs,"  he 
said.  "But  there  "  — pointing  upward  where  the  belt 
ings  disappeared  into  the  room  above —  "goes  the  force 
that  starts  and  keeps  alive  the  whole  concern." 

"Very  curious,  I'm  sure,"  remarked  Corinna  Chil- 
stone,  pressing  round  in  front  of  the  group  to  look  more 
closely  at  Harry's  diagram.  "It  's  so  nice  to  know  all 
about  it."  She  spoke  in  the  necessary  raised  tone, 
which,  as  in  talking  with  a  deaf  person,  absurdly  em 
phasizes  an  insignificant  utterance. 

Harry  laughed.  "Yes,"  he  returned,  with  the  same 
exaggerated  effort,  and  a  soupgon  of  conscious  fun. 
"Nothing  like  exhaustive  research.  But  —  hullo! 
Look  out !  " 

The  last  exclamation  was  in  forceful  earnest,  and  he 
grasped  her  by  the  arm. 

At  the  same  moment  Lilian  sprang  to  Miss  Clril- 
stone's  side,  almost  between  her  and  the  ponderous  re 
volving  shaft.  "Take  care!"  she  cried.  "Your 
dress !  " 

She  snatched  and  gathered  in  her  hands  the  long, 
voluminous  folds  of  summer  silk,  and  held  them  back, 
as  Harry  drew  the  girl  away  in  safety. 

"My!  "  ejaculated  the  young  woman,  bewildered  by 
the  suddenness,  and  hardly  realizing  the  specific  danger. 
Something  terrible,  it  seemed,  was  threatening  here, 
and  might  yet  happen.  She  had  much  better  be  out. 
With  that  flash  of  conviction,  and  perhaps  a  little 
pique,  just  before  provoked,  mingling  with  her  fright, 


THE  SAUNSEE  MILLS.  413 

she  released  herself  abruptly  from  Harry's  hold,  and 
sped  swiftly  through  the  open  doorway. 

It  had  been  only  a  breathing  space  of  time,  but  in  it 
something  more  had  really  happened. 

Lilian  wore  a  delicate  muslin  gown,  full  and  floating 
in  the  fashion  of  the  time.  As  she  had  seized  upon 
Corinna's  garments,  forgetful  of  her  own,  these  swept 
treacherously  near  the  steady  driving  axle  of  the  wheels. 

A  waft  of  wind  blew  through  from  the  outside. 

Estabel  and  Harry  turned  to  see  the  hem  of  the 
pretty  skirt,  all  unknown  to  Lilian,  picked  up  by  the 
projection  of  the  shafting-pin,  and  lifted  into  the  first 
round  of  a  horrible  revolution. 

In  another  breath,  Harry  had  her  in  his  arms. 


CHAPTER  L. 

"  I    WOULD    NE  VER    HAVE    LET    YOU    GO !  " 

IF  it  had  only  been  the  catching  by  a  pin  of  the  light 
material !  But  the  giant  had  a  terrible  maw ;  a  big, 
strong  jaw,  and  it  laid  ready  hold.  It  was  as  if  the 
lapping  of  a  tongue  had  drawn  into  the  monster's  mouth 
the  first  bit  within  its  cruel  reach  of  the  thing  it  lay  in 
wait  for,  and  would  feed  on. 

It  began  to  chew  ;  to  wind  horribly  into  its  devouring 
grind  a  larger  clutch  ;  to  hold  fast ;  to  drag,  slowly, 
pitilessly. 

There  was  other  clothing.  There  were  stronger  hems. 
Oh.  was  there,  Harry  wondered  in  a  torturing  flash, 
a  hoop  ! 

He  fought  with  his  strength  against  the  strength  of 
the  machine.  He  wound  his  arms  about  the  girl's 
waist,  and  pulled,  with  all  his  weight  and  hers,  away. 

The  fabric  tore.  It  shoidd  tear,  and  go!  It  must 
yield  itself ;  but  Lilian  should  not  be  touched ;  she 
never  should  be  forced  nearer ! 

He  did  not  lose  his  head.  His  own  charge  was  the 
charge  of  this  instant  —  here ;  but  he  did  not  forget 
what  should  be  done. 

"Call  to  some  one,"  lie  bade  Estabel  hoarsely. 
"  Stop  the  works !  " 

And  Estabel  flew  to  the  doorway.  A  man  crossed 
the  mill  yard.  She  repeated  the  command  to  him. 

"Stop  the  works!  An  accident!  "  she  shouted  clear 
and  strong. 

The  man   turned,    ran  toward   her,    passed   her.      A 


"I   WOULD   NEVER  HAVE   LET   YOU   GO!"   415 

glance  within,  as  he  shot  by  the  door,  showed  him  the 
full  warrant  of  occasion. 

Estabel  was  back,  upon  her  knees,  by  Lilian's  side. 
She  seized  the  rending  edges  of  the  torn  garments ;  she 
wrenched  them  farther  and  farther  away ;  she  threw 
apart,  in  great  stretches,  the  slitting  lengths,  outstrip 
ping  the  destruction ;  she  flung  the  fragments  off,  as 
she  would  fling  pacifying  morsels  to  a  wild  beast. 

And  then  —  it  was  not  a  moment  —  the  whole  had 
hardly  been  a  thing  of  minutes  —  the  creature  had  been 
holden  by  the  throat ;  its  breath  and  pulse  were  gone ; 
its  great  power  fell  limp ;  it  gave  up  the  ghost. 

A  slow  hush  ran  over  the  mill.  Upstairs,  the  wheels 
slackened,  the  belts  flapped,  the  spindles  and  bobbins 
whirled  weakly,  with  a  faint  singing  sound  in  their 
expiring  hum.  It  was  truly  thrilling;  it  was  like  a 
dea.th. 

The  gay  visitors  were  surprised  into  a  silence. 
What  did  it  mean  ? 

"  Some  hitch  below, "  an  overlooker  said,  and  went 
down  to  see. 

Harry  had  hurried  Lilian  out  into  the  air.  The 
overseer's  house  was  near  at  hand,  just  outside  the 
mill  yard,  beyond  the  river  wing.  He  and  Estabel 
hastened  her  along  the  quiet  path  at  the  back,  where 
they  had  come  down. 

"Can  you  walk?  "  Harry  had  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  please  —  somewhere  out  of  the  way, " 
she  answered. 

So,  pale  and  sweet,  though  torn  and  trembling,  she 
went  on  with  them,  and  Harry  still  kept  his  supporting 
arm  about  her  waist,  while  Estabel,  upon  her  other 
side,  held  her  hand  tenderly,  and  let  the  kindly  breeze 
from  the  river  sweep  her  own  soft  skirts  across  to  shel 
ter  Lilian's  disarray. 

Harry  Henslee  himself  was  pale  enough,  and  felt  a 
tremulousness  he  would  not  show.  It  was  in  his  voice, 


416  SQUARE  PEGS. 

though,  when  he  said  anxiously,  "You  are  sure  you  are 
not  hurt?  I  had  to  drag  you  so." 

"I  am  quite  safe."  Then  with  a  little  shudder,  — 
"  If  you  had  had  to  let  me  go !  " 

"I  would  never  have  let  you  go!  " 

Past,  present,  and  future  tenses  were  all  in  the  into 
nation  of  the  words,  and  an  involuntary  underscoring 
in  the  tightened  pressure  of  his  arm  ahout  her.  He 
could  not  have  helped  it  if  he  had  tried ;  and  he  did  not 
try.  But  as  soon  as  the  words  were  spoken  he  realized, 
with  a  conscious  exultation,  that  he  had  virtually  said 
it  all. 

Mrs.  Pritchett,  the  overseer's  wife,  received  them 
with  effusive  kindness.  The  young  lady  must  go  right 
up  to  her  room,  and  "lay  down."  She  would  make 
her  a  cup  of  tea.  She'd  had  a  strain,  of  course;  she 
must  be  hraced  up  and  quieted  down.  A  person  needed 
hoth,  after  such  a  "fluctuation." 

"A  cup  of  tea  —  take  it  lay  in'  down — '11  do  you 
all  the  good  in  the  world.  'T  ain't  so  much  the  tea 
itself,  perhaps  —  if  tea  was  n't  handy,  but  it  most  al 
ways  is  —  it  's  just  the  coming  back  to  something  com 
mon  and  comfortable,  when  you  've  been  shook  half  out 
of  your  senses.  You  want  to  be  broke,  if  it  's  only  for 
a  minute,  of  that  feeling  that  you  're  in  the  middle  of 
the  wheels,  and  be  set  on  your  own  every-day  track 
again.  It 's  about  the  only  way  you  can  help  folks 
under  bereavement.  Most  anything  will  give  a  start, 
sometimes :  a  drop  of  camphire,  or  a  snuff  of  salts ;  my 
aunt  Dianthejane  come  to  on  a  clam-stew,  and  an  apple- 
dowdy,  dished  up,  unexpected.  Even  lookin'  in  the 
glass,  and  seein'  you  're  right  there,  after  all,  same  as 
you  were  before,  will  settle  a  person  a  good  deal. 
Though  I  wouldn't  advise  that  right  away,  in  your 
case,  till  you  're  a  little  bit  samer.  Take  this  now, 
dear,  and  then  we  '11  see  to  your  gown.  It  's  real  lucky 
you  don't  wear  much  of  a  hoop.  If  it  had  been  one  of 


"I  WOULD  NEVER  HAVE  LET  YOU  GO!"    417 

them  long  floating  bells,  now,  and  a  strong  silk  over 
it!" 

"That  was  what  Miss  Chilstone  had  on!  Oh,  Es- 
tabel !  "  Lilian  turned  very  pale  again. 

"There,  don't  talk;  and  don't  remember  anything," 
said  Mrs.  Pritchett,  disappearing  into  a  big  closet, 
whence  she  emerged  presently  with  a  rustling  pile  of 
her  best  summer  equipments. 

A  white  skirt  was  easily  furnished ;  and  then  she 
would  have  had  Lilian  put  on  a  blue  barege,  flounced 
and  ribboned,  quite  fine  and  fashionable ;  but  Lilian 
said,  "  no ;  not  anything  that  could  possibly  hurt,  or  be 
defaced,  or  have  the  freshness  taken  off."  She  would 
have  that  nice  white  dimity,  and  thanked  Mrs.  Pritchett 
so  much. 

"You  needn't  mind  a  grain  about  takin'  the  new 
off;  and  you  ain't  goin'  back  into  the  machinery.  But 
you  shall  take  your  choice.  I  guess  you  '11  do  well 
enough  in  most  anything." 

Harry  thought  so,  half  an  hour  later,  when  he  came 
to  inquire,  and  found  her  ready  to  go  back  among  her 
friends. 

"Only  take  me  into  some  quiet  place,  and  don't  let 
people  talk  to  me, "  she  said. 

The  company  was  in  the  shady  hollow,  established  at 
their  lunch.  Harry  found  a  little  nook  against  a  shel 
tering  rock,  with  whispering  birches  growing  round  it, 
and  a  great  strong  oak  branching  over  from  above,  be 
hind  it.  Here  he  placed  her  and  Estabel  comfortably, 
and  brought  Mrs.  Brithwaite  and  Mary  to  sit  by,  within 
the  narrow  opening  through  the  fringe  of  shrubbery, 
and  went  away  himself,  to  answer  questions  and  fend 
off  curious  approach. 

Miss  Chilstone  had  a  mind  to  share  the  renown  and 
the  romance. 

"The  same  tiling  came  very  near  happening  to  me 
only  a  few  minutes  before, "  she  remarked  to  right  and 


418  SQUARE  PEGS. 

left,  as  the  excited  comment  went  around.  "My  dress 
was  catching,  but  Mr.  Henslee  pulled  me  away  just  in 
time.  She  ought  to  have  come  away  then,  as  I  did." 

Mrs.  Chilstone  sought  out  Harry. 

"I  hear  you  have  saved  two  lives  to-day,  Mr.  Harri 
son  Henslee, "  she  said,  with  a  graceful  air  of  emotion. 
"Let  me  thank  you  for  your  rescue  of  Corinna." 

"Miss  Hawtree  saved  Miss  Chilstone 's  life,  at  the 
very  great  risk  of  her  own.  That  is,  she  prevented  the 
danger,  which  consequently  fell  upon  herself, "  Mr. 
Harrison  Henslee  replied,  with  cool  disclaimer. 

But  Mrs.  Chilstone  did  not  seek  out  Miss  Hawtree 
with  her  thanks. 

When  they  all  got  home,  Estahel  and  Lilian  ac 
counted  for  the  white  dimity  to  Miss  Charlock,  whom 
they  first  met,  hy  the  simple  statement  that  Lilian  had 
torn  her  lilac  muslin,  and  been  obliged  to  borrow  this 
of  Mrs.  Pritchett  at  the  mill.  They  thought  it  better 
to  put  off  the  full  explanation,  especially  with  the 
Gladmother,  till  a  night's  rest  and  a  just-as-usual  morn 
ing  had,  according  to  Mrs.  Pritchett 's  theory,  set  all 
things  on  a  stable,  common  track  again.  Estabel  knew 
that  this  was  far  more  advisable  for  Lilian  herself  than 
to  live  over  again  by  exciting  repetition  the  occurrence 
of  those  terrible  few  minutes. 

Miss  Charlock  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  keen 
eyes  and  a  firm  set  of  the  lips.  Lilian  slipped  out  of 
the  room. 

"Where  's  the  pieces?  "  demanded  Miss  Charlock  of 
Estabel. 

"Oh,  it  was  pretty  badly  used  up.  It  would  n't  be 
any  good,  and  so  we  left  it." 

Miss  Charlock  continued  her  gaze,  first  through  her 
spectacles,  with  uplifted  chin,  and  then  with  head  de 
pressed  and  the  line  of  vision  preternaturally  raised  above 
them. 

"H'm!      Some    folks    think    they  're    keeping    dark 


"I  WOULD  NEVER  HAVE  LET  YOU  GO!"    419 

when  a  thing  's  as  plain  as  daylight;  and  when  it  '& 
plain  as  daylight  they  think  they  're  keeping  dark !  " 

"Well,  Aunt  Esther,  you  can  keep  dark  with  your 
eyes  wide  open,  you  know,"  said  Estabel. 

"Chooty-choo!  "  And  Aunt  Esther  added  to  herself 
as  Estahel  also  passed  on  upstairs,  "That  girl 's  heen 
within  an  inch  of  her  life.  Or  the  other  thing.  I  sup 
pose  she  and  the  Gladmother  would  say  it  was  all  one." 

Miss  Charlock  was  perspicacious.  When  Mrs.  Trubin 
and  Lilian  talked  it  all  over  the  next  day,  the  Glad- 
mother  asked  tenderly,  "How  did  you  bear  that  one 
terrible  minute,  dearie  ?  " 

Lilian's  head  was  resting  on  the  Gladmother's  shoul 
der.  Her  face  nestled  down  closer  to  the  loving  heart. 

"I  knew  —  help  would  come  —  quickly  —  from  one 
side  or  the  other,  and  either  way  it  would  be  life,"  she 
said  softly. 

"  I  thank  the  dear  Lord  he  sent  the  help  on  this  side, 
and  brought  you  back  to  me !  "  was  the  fervent  return. 

Brought  back.  Was  she  altogether  brought  back? 
Or,  if  so,  was  it  with  a  larger  altogether  —  a  new  ex 
perience  of  this  life,  instead  of  that  swift  change  into 
the  life  beyond?  Was  this  side  to  open  into  wider 
beauty  for  her,  be  richer,  be  nearer  without  violence  to 
that  other,  to  lead  more  gently  toward  it,  be  more 
identical  with  it  ? 

Lilian  felt  her  heart  mysteriously  full  of  something 
it  had  not  held  in  a  clear  consciousness  before.  But 
there  was  nothing  at  this  moment  to  tell  the  Gladmo 
ther,  except  what  she  had  told. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

"CAN  YOU  PUT  UP  WITH  IT?" 

THERE  was  something,  however,  for  Harry  Henslee 
to  tell  his  father. 

Escaping  the  gay  company  on  piazza  and  lawn  and 
in  the  open  parlors,  he  made  his  way  after  tea  to  the 
quiet  upper  balcony  reached  only  from  Mr.  Henslee 's 
own  room  in  the  long  wing,  where  that  gentleman  was 
enjoying  his  comfortable  evening  cigar. 

The  younger  man  did  not  smoke.  That  virile  accom 
plishment  had  as  yet  no  enticement  for  him.  There 
are  elective  studies  in  life,  as  well  as  in  the  universities. 
Harry  Henslee  had  not  included  this  in  his  curriculum. 
But  he  loved  dearly  to  sit  by  his  father  in  this  evening 
peace,  and  talk  with  him  sometimes  as  they  were  hardly 
apt  to  talk  together  in  the  broad  and  busy  daylight. 
The  evening  smoke,  like  the  after-business  drive,  was 
a  time  for  confidence. 

If  I  have  succeeded  in  presenting  young  Harrison 
Henslee  as  he  presents  himself  to  me,  you  have  under 
stood  him  to  be  the  sweet,  fresh  young  fellow,  with  as 
few  faults  of  his  environment  as  might  accrue,  that  he 
certainly  was.  Life  was  really  all  before  him,  in  the 
best  sense.  His  father  exulted  in  him  for  this  reason. 
Lilian  Hawtree,  with  her  intuitive  insight,  going  to  the 
heart  of  things  and  persons,  had  divined  it.  Any 
woman,  also  fresh  and  young,  might  hold  herself  privi 
leged  to  begin  to  live,  and  to  grow  on  to  higher  and 
higher  living,  with  such  a  one,  who  had  nothing  to  over 
live  or  to  live  down,  but  every  best  possibility  of  nature 
to  unfold  and  satisfy. 


"CAN   YOU   PUT   UP   WITH   IT?"  421 

Absolutely  free  from  all  bitter  warp  and  prejudice, 
even  in  his  little  superficial  conventionalities,  frank 
and  generous,  full  of  the  early  home  affection  that 
makes  a  natural  wider  love,  —  a  love  that  perpetuates 
home  from  home  through  happy  generations,  —  sure  in 
warmth  and  loyalty,  he  was  a  good  deal  more  than 
Estabel  had  been  able  to  give  him  just  and  entire  credit 
for.  She  had  thought  she  knew  him,  when  she  only 
knew  his  boyish  ways.  She  had  settled  his  place  in  her 
scale  of  judgment  before  she  had  learned  that  secret  of 
looking  beneath  the  surface  to  the  inner  side,  for  the 
realities  of  character  and  relation,  and  for  the  meanings 
of  all  things  and  circumstances.  The  difference  between 
her  and  Lilian  was  that  she  was  still  learning  this,  and 
applying  it  as  theory  to  proof,  while  with  Lilian  it  was 
something  instant  and  identical.  It  was  as  science  to 
inspiration.  Lilian  had  had  the  blessed  talisman  of  the 
direct  perception  from  the  first.  This  made  her  patient 
with  hardness,  because  of  the  tenderness  she  was  sure 
might  be  underneath ;  but  it  drew  her  with  a  yet  sweeter  • 
impulse  to  the  simple  kindliness  that  flowed,  like  sun 
shine,  from  some  central  power  of  being  and  of  giving. 
There  may  be  hardness  without  tenderness ;  at  least, 
a  hardness  that  tends  to  permanently  crush  back  and 
seal  up  tenderness ;  but  the  strength  of  the  good  heart 
must  be  behind  the  continual  act  of  a  warm  humaneness. 
The  "way  of  the  leaven,"  as  she  had  said,  is  after  all 
the  final,  prevailing  way  of  "setting  the  world  to  rights." 

And  Harry  recognized  in  her  this  very  help  and  echo 
to  his  own  worthiest.  "She  doesn't  pick  the  world  to 
pieces,  nor  set  a  fellow  to  dissecting  himself  into  bits, " 
he  phrased  it  in  his  thought.  "But  she  's  there,  with 
the  gist  and  marrow  of  it,  all  the  same.  She  's  just 
made  '  of  every  creature's  best,'  on  purpose  for  every 
creature  to  know  his  own  best  when  he  sees  it,  and  so 
be  made  the  best  of." 

And  with  this  in  his  heart,  he  came  out  to-night  to 
talk  to  his  father. 


422  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Father,"  he  began,  as  he  pulled  up  a  piazza  chair 
and  seated  himself  close  beside  the  elder  man,  leaning 
a  little  forward  with  his  arms  along  his  knees,  and 
twisting  a  bit  of  honeysuckle  in  his  fingers,  while  his 
head  bent  very  near  Mr.  Henslee's  ear,  "I  am  afraid 
I  am  going  to  disappoint  you." 

Mr.  Henslee  took  the  cigar  from  his  mouth  and 
looked  round  upon  his  boy. 

"If  you  are,  Harry,  it  will  be  for  the  first  time  in 
all  your  life." 

"Thank  you,  pater,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  moved, 
manly  tone.  "That  makes  it  all  the  harder." 

"What  if  I  won't  be  disappointed?  I  know  there 
can  be  nothing  wrong.  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"It  has  happened  that  I  have  found  myself  out,  at 
last,  and  given  myself  away." 

Mr.  Henslee  repeated  the  words  with  an  interroga 
tion.  The  phrase  had  not  then  become  a  colloquialism. 

"Committed  myself,  I  mean.  Quite  involuntarily. 
It  comes  to  the  same  thing.  Father,  I  want  Lilian 
Hawtree  for  my  wife,  and  I  have  so  nearly  asked  her, 
that  I  must  say  the  rest  at  once.  But  I  had  to  tell 
you  first." 

Mr.  Henslee  was  silent.  It  needed  a  little  time  to 
take  this  in,  even  so  far  as  to  reply.  It  would  need 
longer  to  fully  adjust  himself  to  such  a  change  in  all  his 
plans  and  feeling.  But  he  was  first  of  all  a  father;  if 
his  child  had  found  out,  truly,  what  was  bread  to  him, 
he  would  not  insist  upon  a  stone.  If  he  had  tried  to 
manage  his  son's  life,  to  forecast  it  a  little,  and  to  turn 
his  steps,  if  they  would  be  turned,  toward  the  patli  that 
looked  to  him  most  desirable  and  safe,  it  was  only  from 
the  impulse  of  pure  fatherhood ;  worldly  scheming  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it.  It  was  none  the  less 
a  little  startling  to  discover  that  the  boy  he  had  led  by 
the  hand,  and  upheld,  had  found  his  own  feet,  and  could 
suddenly,  as  it  were,  go  alone,  choosing  his  own  way. 


423 

Harry  took  advantage  of  the  silence,  and  put  aside  its 
awkwardness,  by  telling  at  once  the  story  —  within  the 
story  —  of  the  day. 

"You  see  —  maybe  you  remember,  father,"  he  said 
cunningly,  with  a  smile,  "there  are  times  when  a  man 
doesn't  know  exactly  what  he  is  likely  to  say  next.  I 
told  her  I  would  never  let  her  go.  That  was  because 
she  thought  I  might  have  had  to  let  that  brutal  machine 
get  her  away  from  me.  But  it  meant  that  nothing 
should ;  no  hard  or  cruel  machinery  of  any  sort ;  that 
I  would  never  give  her  up." 

Then  Mr.  Henslee  spoke. 

"Yes;  you  will  have  to  tell  her  the  rest,  Harry,"  he 
said. 

"Can  you  put  up  with  it?  " 

Mr.  Henslee 's  cigar  had  gone  out.  He  tossed  what 
remained  of  it  away  over  the  railing,  and  turned  quite 
round  in  his  chair  toward  his  son. 

"Can  I  put  up  with  you,  Harry?  I  've  had  a  hand 
in  the  making  of  you  what  you  are ;  and  it  is  what  you 
are  you  choose  from.  It  would  be  hard  if  after  all 
I  couldn't  trust  your  choice.  Come  and  tell  me  to 
morrow  what  she  says  to  you." 

It  was  so,  without  demur  or  qualification  that  should 
mar,  or  be  hereafter  remembered,  that  this  high-minded 
gentleman  gave  his  consent. 

"Estabel  told  me  that  I  didn't  know  how  good  you 
could  be  till  I  tried, "  said  Harry,  with  a  stir  of  strong 
feeling  in  his  voice. 

"  She  knew  of  this  ?  " 

"I  told  you  she  knew  better  than  even  I  did,  then." 

"Estabel  is  a  fine  creature."  And  a  breath  that 
might  have  been  the  sigh  of  a  regret,  or  the  last  gentle 
release  of  a  useless  wish,  escaped  him  as  he  spoke. 

"We  must  go  down  now,  Harry.  And  —  however 
it  turns  out  —  we  won't  let  anything  be  talked  of  before 
the  present  affair  comes  off." 


CHAPTER  LII. 

"HISTORY  REPEATS  ITSELF." 

THE  two  sat  together  upon  the  sloping  mossy  rock 
under  the  thick,  spicy  pines,  where  Harry  had  found 
Estabel  and  Lilian  that  first  morning  that  seemed  so 
long  ago. 

He  had  come  over  to-day  at  as  early  an  hour  as  might 
be  ventured,  with  his  open  inquiry  and  his  reserved  ask 
ing.  He  had  met  Miss  Charlock  in  the  garden,  and 
put  the  first  to  her.  Then  he  had  said,  quite  as  openly 
and  frankly,  "Now,  Miss  Esther,  if  you  please,  I  want 
Lilian." 

"  Oh !  If  I  please,  you  want  Lilian  ?  "  Aunt  Esther 
repeated.  "And  what  if  /want  Lilian,  if  you  please?  " 

"But  I  don't.  And  you  will  spare  her  to  me?  A 
walk  in  the  woods  will  rest  her.  I  came  on  purpose." 

"I  haven't  the  least  doubt  you  did.  You've  come 
on  purpose  pretty  often  lately,  have  n't  you?  And  I  've 
been  pretty  good,  I  think.  Well  —  /  don't  mean  to 
ask  much  of  her  to-day.  I  '11  see  what  she  says  to 
you." 

"  Not  exactly,  Aunt  Esther, "  the  young  man  mur 
mured  as  she  went  off.  "  De  post  facto  will  be  time 
enough. " 

"Aren't  you  coming,  Estabel?"  Lilian  had  asked, 
as  she  put  on  her  hat. 

"No.  I  'm  busy.  It  's  your  turn  to-day.  History 
repeats  itself.  Mind  you  're  real  good  to  Harry,  Lil, " 
she  added,  as  she  kissed  her. 


HISTORY   REPEATS  ITSELE."  425 

"Why?      Weren't  you  real  good  to  him?  " 

"History  repeats  itself,  I  said.  Yes;  I  was  just 
the  goodest  I  knew  how  to  be." 

"How  long  am  I  to  keep  dark  with  my  eyes  wide 
open  ?  "  inquired  Miss  Charlock,  after  Lilian  had  gone. 

"Oh,  a  time,  and  times,  and  half  a  time.  Not  more 
than  half  a  time,  now,  I  guess,  Aunt  Esther." 

"When  you're  saucy  you  think  you 're  smart ;  and 
you  think  you  're  smart  when  you  're  saucy,"  returned 
Miss  Charlock. 

"  Chooty-choo !  "  said  Estabel. 

Lilian  was  very  happy  to-day.  Life  was  sweet  to 
her.  She  did  not  stop  to  ask  the  reason  why.  She 
took  her  day  as  it  came,  not  dreaming  definitely,  even 
yet,  what  it  was  to  bring  forth.  She  was  in  that  half- 
wakened  state  when  dreams  are  vague,  delicious. 

So  they  walked  away  into  the  fragrant,  gentle  mys 
tery  of  the  pines  together,  and  came  to  the  old  lichened 
boulder  by  the  brookside. 

Harry  asked  her  if  she  remembered. 

"One  doesn't  forget  such  days,"  she  said.  "I  think 
it  was  almost  the  happiest  I  had  had  then,  in  my  whole 
life." 

"No,  one  doesn't  forget  —  when  happiness  begins. 
But  I  am  glad  you  say  '  almost,'  and  '  then.'  ' 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked  him  innocently. 

"Because  I  should  like  to  try  to  make  some  still 
happier  for  you,  now,  and  always.  That  very  day  I 
began  to  love  you,  Lilian.  I  want  you  for  my  wife." 

He  had  turned  to  her  and  taken  both  her  hands  in 
his.  She  left  them  there.  She  was  hardly  conscious 
of  her  hands. 

He  waited.  Perhaps  a  minute.  It  seemed  long  to 
him.  "Haven't  you  an  answer  for  me,  dear?  " 

Then  a  little  thrill  ran  through  her,  and  trembled 
into  broken  words. 


426  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"I  thought  —  I  did  n't  know  —  until"  -  and  with 
these  fragments  the  difficult  answer  ended. 

Harry  still  held  fast  her  hands.  He  was  looking 
straight  into  her  eyes  —  as  straight  as  she  would  let 
him  look,  with  the  flickering  glances  that  met  and  fled 
from  his.  The  light  in  his  face  almost  made  her  afraid. 
She  did  not  dare  to  let  it  kindle  hers  with  its  magnetic 
shaft. 

"I  will  ask  you  one  of  those  things  at  a  time,"  he 
said.  "  You  '  thought '  ?  " 

"I  thought  —  it  was  to  be  something  different." 

"  Nobody  else  thought  so  —  who  was  immediately 
concerned  to  think.  Estabel  and  I  have  discussed  and 
settled  that.  And  you  '  did  not  know  '  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  —  how  much  it  might  mean  for 
me." 

Now  he  caught  her  with  one  arm  round  her  waist. 

" '  Until  '  ?  "  he  demanded  eagerly. 

"Until  —  yesterday  —  and  now,"  she  answered  him. 

"And  forever!  "  said  the  heartsome,  realistic  young 
fellow,  Avith  a  glad  solemnity. 

They  hardly  knew  how  long  that  morning  was,  among 
the  pines. 

As  they  walked  back  at  last  through  the  orchard,  a 
bluebird  over  their  heads  in  the  branches  broke  forth 
with  its  rare,  late  warble. 

"  Forever  —  forever  —  forever, "  it  repeated. 

A  trail  of  the  heaven-color  followed  it,  as  it  flashed 
away  in  the  sunshine. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

QUEEX    ESTHER. 

"MR.  HEXSLEE  wants  you  in  the  parlor,  Lilian," 
said  Miss  Charlock. 

"Mr.  Heiislee?" 

"Yes;  my  cousin.  Not  your  boy.  There  's  at  least 
two  of  them  in  the  world,  after  all, "  Aunt  Esther  an 
swered,  with  an  odd  shortness  and  an  odder  twinkle  in 
the  corner  of  her  eye. 

"Don't  be  grim-funny  with  me  to-day,  dear  Miss 
Charlock !  " 

"Call  me  Aunt  Esther,  and  I  won't."  And  she 
kissed  her.  "I'm  a  mixture;  most  people  are.  You 
must  take  me  as  I  come,  as  you  do  chow-chow  pickle." 
And  as  Aunt  Esther  left  the  room  there  was  something 
in  the  corner  of  her  eye  besides  the  twinkle,  which  did 
not,  however,  put  the  twinkle  out. 

She  had  made  up  her  mind  to  it ;  she  loved  Lilian,  and 
she  was  glad.  But  she  would  hardly  have  been  human 
—  she  certainly  would  not  have  been  Miss  Esther  Char 
lock,  with  nearly  twenty  years  of  a  pleasant  dream  be 
hind  her  that  had  melted  back  into  dreamland  —  if  she 
could  quite,  at  the  very  first,  have  kept  down  the 
thought,  "  What  shall  we  do  now  with  Estabel  ?  " 

Mr.  Henslee  came  forward  to  meet  Lilian  as  she  en 
tered  the  door.  He  took  her  by  both  hands  and  bent 
down  tenderly  and  kissed  her  cheek.  "My  little  daugh 
ter  !  "  was  all  he  said. 

Lilian's  face,  sweet  and  flushed  with  his  salute,  was 
lifted  to  him  in  a  shy,  happy  surprise. 


428  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Are  you  going  to  be  so  good  to  me  as  that?  "  she 
asked  tremulously. 

"I  am  going  to  love  you  dearly,  my  child.  You  are 
going  to  be  very  good  to  me,  I  think." 

"But  I  thought  —  I  always  fancied  "  —  she  stopped, 
as  she  had  just  so  before,  with  Harry. 

"AVell,  tell  me  what  you  thought."  said  Mr.  Hens- 
lee,  as  he  led  her  to  the  sofa.  ''Sit  down  here,  and 
let  us  understand  each  other  from  the  beginning.  You 
fancied  ?  " 

"That  you  were  wishing  something  else,  and  that  it 
was  sure  to  happen." 

"Nothing  is  sure  to  happen  but  what  we  do  not  ex 
pect,  "  said  Mr.  Henslee,  smiling.  Neither  had  that 
saying  then  become  common  proverb.  "We  generally 
want  something  else  in  this  world,  while  the  very  best  is 
preparing  for  us.  And  in  this  happening  —  nobody  is 
disappointed." 

"How  generous  you  are!  I'll  try  to  be  a  good 
child,  Mr.  Henslee." 

"I  think  if  there  were  to  be  any  trying,  it  would 
have  to  be  the  other  way." 

After  that,  there  was  not  much  more  for  words. 

"You  will  go  up  and  see  the  Gladmother ?  "  Lilian 
asked  presently. 

"And  while  I  talk  with  her,  you  will  put  on  your 
things  to  ride  back  with  me  ?  Aunt  Lucy  wants  to  see 
you." 

Lilian  shrank  a  little.  "The  house  is  so  full  of 
people,  Mr.  Henslee,"  she  said. 

"Aunt  Lucy's  room  is  never  full.  There  will  be  no 
one  there  but  Harry.  And  he  made  me  promise  not 
to  be  very  long.  The  '  people  '  are  all  about  —  on  the 
croquet-ground,  out  in  the  bowling-alley,  in  the  peach 
orchard,  and  down  by  the  river.  The  house  is  almost 
a  solitiide.  And  we  can  drive  round  to  the  back  door." 

While  Lilian  lingered  a  little  over  the  simple  changes 


QUEEN  ESTHER  429 

in  her  toilet,  Mr.  Henslee  saw  first  the  Gladmother, 
and  then  the  others  with  her. 

"We  are  not  going  to  roh  you  of  anything,"  he  told 
Mrs.  Trubin.  "If  you  will  only  adapt  your  plans  a 
little  to  ours,  we  will  try  to  make  it  only  a  happy  dif 
ference.  Harry  knows  what  you  and  Lilian  are  to  each 
other." 

"And  the  Lord  who  sets  in  families  knows  how  to 
make  the  links,"  the  Gladmother  answered  him.  "We 
won't  plan  just  yet;  we  shall  come  across  our  plans 
as  we  go  on." 

Mr.  Henslee  began  to  think  that  it  was  not  only  an 
unexpected  but  a  very  unusual  good  that  was  replacing 
his  earlier  wishes.  The  lovely  dignity  and  calm  of  this 
beautiful  old  lady  was  something  learned  in  higher  than 
what  are  in  ordinary  comparison  called  the  highest 
circles. 

"And  we  won't  tell  everybody  yet,"  he  suggested, 
as  he  went  downstairs  with  Aunt  Esther  and  Estabel. 
Lilian  had  slipped  into  the  Gladmother's  room  for  a 
separate  good-by.  "It  would  make  it  harder  for  Lilian. 
We  '11  launch  the  barque,  and  then  we  '11  launch  "  — 

"The  thunderbolt?  "  interrupted  Miss  Charlock,  with 
a  ponderous  mischief.  "You  needn't  say  it;  it  will 
say  itself.  But  it  might  as  well  be  out  of  our  hearing. " 

"I  didn't  mean  it,  Esther.  There  will  be  no  thun 
derbolt.  I  think  there  is  conducting  power  enough  to 
•save  that."  He  spoke  with  just  a  touch  of  not  unkindly 
haughtiness. 

"  May  I  say  something  ?  "  Estabel  asked  him  hur 
riedly,  at  the  stair  foot. 

"You  always  may;   anything." 

"Then,  don't  you  think  there  is  a  very  good  dissipat 
ing  atmosphere  here  just  now?  Don't  you  believe  Top- 
thorpe  would  take  it  more  complacently  if  it  were  con 
fided  in  on  the  spot?  Not  to-day,  of  course,  but  at 
the  right  time  ?  " 


430  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"I  believe  you  always  have  inspirations,  Estabel.  I 
will  tell  them  after  the  launch." 

"Don't  you  think  Lilian  ought  to  christen  the  ship?  " 

Mr.  Henslee  was  not  so  instantly  positive  in  concur 
rence  to  that.  He  was  not  quite  ready  to  set  Estabel 
so  far  aside.  But  the  next  day  she  persuaded  him. 
"It  will  put  her  right  into  her  place,  with  all  the 
honors,"  she  said.  "It  is  only  just  what  ought  to  be." 

And  Mr.  Henslee  saw  that  the  rest  would  come  more 
naturally. 

"You  shall  be  as  generous  as  you  please,  Queen 
Esther,"  he  consented.  "There  can  be  no  dispute  with 
royalty. " 

Lilian  yielded  to  the  wish  and  argument  of  all,  and 
to  Harry's  individual  persistence.  "You  could  not 
please  Estabel  better, "  he  said. 

But  her  acquiescence  was  with  a  certain  little  private 
reservation.  She,  too,  had  her  inspirations. 

"  We  shall  all  be  together  ?  "  she  asked  appealingly. 

"Oh,  yes;   you  shall  be  well  supported." 

"And  perhaps  the  people  won't  all  notice,"  she  sug 
gested  simply. 

"Perhaps  not,  if  that  consoles  you,"  said  Harry, 
laughing.  "There  are  always  a  good  many  who  don't 
catch  the  point  of  a  thing  until  it  is  all  over." 

"And  you  won't  tell  of  it  beforehand?  " 

"No,  indeed.  That  would  spoil  the  fun.  You  shall 
spring  a  mine  upon  them." 

Lilian  did  not  half  like  that  way  of  putting  it,  but 
she  said  no  more. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

THE    LAUNCHING    OF    THE    GOLDENROD. 

THE  day  of  the  launch  was  a  day  of  glory. 

Summer  was  still  tender  in  the  air,  but  the  rich 
breath  of  early  aromatic  autumn  met  it  with  a  kiss. 
The  hills  sent  down  their  messages  of  ripened  odors. 
"The  time  is  fulfilled;  the  year  is  of  age,  and  possesses 
its  inheritance, "  they  said. 

The  orchards  were  opulent  with  fruit ;  in  the  gardens 
there  were  sweet  peas  and  pansies  and  summer  roses 
still ;  the  year  was  not  old,  but  perfect.  The  asters 
shone  in  white  and  violet  constellations;  the  marigolds 
were  ablaze ;  in  the  pastures  the  tall  yellow  plumes  that 
claimed  the  honor  of  the  day  were  proud  and  gay. 
Their  representative  delegations  had  gone  down  in  mul 
titudes  from  the  hillsides  to  figure  in  pomp  for  all  their 
tribes. 

The  Goldenrod  was  decked  from  stem  to  stern. 

She  lay  upon  her  cradlings,  with  a  graceful  lean 
toward  the  water,  as  a  swallow  leans  into  the  air  for 
flight. 

Her  lower  masts  were  set ;  light  temporary  staffs 
were  run  up  from  them  to  a  stately  height,  and  lan 
yards  stretched  in  sweeping  curves  between,  and  out  to 
prow  and  taffrail,  bearing  flags  and  streamers,  and 
bright  wreathings  of  the  chosen  flower  that  transformed 
their  common  lines  to  shining  garlands. 

At  the  fore,  beneath  the  union-jack,  floated  the  ship's 
ensign,  a  suggestive,  if  slightly  conventionalised,  tuft  of 
the  emblematic  blossoms  upon  a  ground  of  blue,  bordered 


432  SQUARE  PEGS. 

with  scarlet ;  at  the  main,  the  private  signal  of  the  mer 
chant,  —  a  blue  diamond  in  a  field  of  white ;  ahove  the 
stern,  the  stars  and  stripes. 

The  company  was  gathered  on  the  slope  of  the  river 
bank ;  some  found  natural  seats  of  stone  or  turfy  ridge, 
making  them  comfortable,  if  they  felt  the  need,  with 
shawls ;  there  were  improvised  benches  down  by  the 
water  margin,  of  boards  and  blocks  from  the  building 
yard. 

Many  walked  curiously  about,  or  stood  in  groups,  or 
came  down  in  little  squads  close  to  the  ways,  to  inspect 
and  ask  about  the  details  of  the  vessel,  and  the  methods 
of  its  support  and  letting  go. 

A  special  party  was  upon  the  deck,  moving  kaleido- 
scopically  to  and  fro,  certain  persons  always  keeping  near 
the  bow  to  be  ready  for  their  sudden  duty.  The  bright 
attire  of  ladies  and  the  flutter  of  gay  colors  overhead 
made  a  picture  in  the  sunlight,  and  now  and  then  the 
music  of  a  band  struck  up,  and  echoed  in  sound  the 
brilliance  of  the  visible  tones. 

The  vessel  lay  slantwise  from  the  spectators ;  the 
current  which  was  to  take  her  off  swept  away  into  a 
bend  and  broadening  of  the  stream,  that  a  little  farther 
widened  to  its  full  estuary.  The  prow,  with  its  queenly, 
graceful  figurehead,  seemed  to  lift  itself  with  a  noble 
courtesy  of  acknowledgment,  like  a  lady  rising  to  re 
ceive  and  greet  her  guests,  or  a  great  actress  before  her 
applauding  audience. 

The  shoring  beams  had  been  taken  away ;  the  sliding- 
timbers,  upon  which  the  lovely  craft  was  to  go  down  into 
her  waiting  element,  had  been  pushed  up  under  her  hull 
upon  the  ways,  that  were  slippery  with  plentiful  smooth 
tallow ;  she  rested  upon  the  keel  blocks  still,  but  men 
underneath  her  with  great  hammers  were  alert  for  the 
critical  moment  of  striking  them  away :  others  were 
already  "wedging  up"  between  the  sliding  beams  to 
force  the  vessel's  weight  upward.  Those  of  the  lookers- 


THE  LAUNCHING  OF  THE  GOLDENROD.  433 

on  who  understood  watched  breathless ;  a  crowd  of  the 
ignorant  were  shortly  taken  by  surprise. 

Two  girls  stood  together  upon  the  fore  deck  in  the 
bow;  two  or  three  gentlemen  just  behind  them.  A 
shout  came  up  from  below ;  the  wedgers  and  hammerers 
scrambled  with  prompt  agility  back  out  of  possible 
peril ;  the  keel  was  eased  from  its  support  and  the 
blocking  fell  aside ;  the  vessel  settled  gently  to  its  lower 
place  upon  the  movable  timbers,  which  started  —  began 
to  slide  —  along  the  ways. 

She  moved.  She  glided  downward.  There  was  the 
slight  crash  of  glass.  In  the  instant's  silence  of  the 
expectant  throng,  a  clear  voice  rang  out  sweetly,  while 
she  who  with  one  hand  had  broken  the  bottle  of  sparkling 
wine  over  the  rail,  held  fast  with  the  other  that  of  her 
companion,  drawing  her  close  beside  and  almost  for 
ward,  so  that  for  many  it  was  hard  to  tell  which  had 
done  the  actual  christening,  as  the  words  were  proudly 
uttered,  — 

"  We  name  this  barque  the  Goldenrod !  " 

Before  the  sound  or  its  impression  had  fairly  died 
away,  down,  like  a  waterfowl,  the  beautiful  form  slipped 
into  the  embrace  of  the  stream,  discarding  her  supports 
of  block  and  beam  like  childish  things  all  done  with, 
buoyed  herself  gracefully,  and  curtseyed  to  the  gentle 
swell  she  made,  —  her  flags  and  pennants  flying  gayly 
backward  with  her  motion  and  the  softly  concurring 
breeze,  —  and  presently  lay  proudly  quiet. 

Then  a  great  cheer  went  up  from  all,  reiterated  with 
specialty,  — -  for  the  Goldenrod,  for  the  Diamond  Line, 
for  the  Stars  and  Stripes ;  and  with  the  band  playing 
the  Star  Spangled  Banner,  and  the  boats  crowding  up 
to  the  side  among  the  floatage  of  the  disdained  chips 
and  lumber,  the  bright  function  was  over,  and  the  ex 
hilarated  company,  with  animated  exchange  of  com 
ment,  compliment,  and  query,  dispersed  to  their  waiting 
carriages  upon  the  roadside,  or  along  the  shady  foot- 


434  SQUARE  PEGS. 

paths  that  led  back 'among  the  skirting  copses  from  the 
river  bank  to  Henslee  Place. 

"Which  was  it?" 

"And  who  was  the  girl?  " 

"What  did  it  mean?  " 

"Well,  the  Henslees  can  do  anything.  And  Estabel 
Charlock  can  do  anything  with  the  Henslees." 

"She  was  astonishingly  pretty.  Was  it  just  for  the 
effect,  or  was  it  for  a  cover?  And  when  are  we  to 
know  ?  " 

So  the  buzz-buzz  circulated,  as  Mr.  Henslee  foresaw 
it  would,  and  prepared  the  way  for  his  adroit  little 
social  coup  d'etat. 

It  was  at  the  happy  moment  when  no  break  had  yet 
been  made  in  the  festive  gathering,  — when  there  was 
yet  time,  and  not  too  much,  for  after  observance  and 
remark,  which  were  better  made  here,  at  once,  and  the 
tone  taken,  —  when  the  viands  of  the  collation  were  done 
with,  and  the  plates  and  forks  and  cups  and  spoons  col 
lected  and  removed,  —  that  the  great  silver  punch  bowl, 
on  its  beautiful  antique  salver,  was  brought  into  the 
hall  and  set  upon  a  tripod  table  under  the  well  of  the 
staircase  whose  fine  sweeping  curve  ascended  with  the 
light  yet  stately  grace  that  made  a  chiefly  noted  point 
in  the  admired  architecture  of  the  old  colonial  mansion, 
and  Mr.  Henslee  came  forward  beside  it  with  a  move 
ment  of  invitation  and  a  waiting  word  of  something  more. 

It  was  claret  cup.  Miss  Henslee  did  not  approve  of 
any  more  exciting  beverage ;  but  it  was  claret  cup  such 
as  is  only  brewed  from  some  old,  complex  recipe  of  de 
licious  ingredients,  possessed  and  used  most  rarely.  Its 
ruby  color  flashed  in  the  large  reflecting  curve  of  the 
noble  basin;  thin  bits  of  rich,  keen  tropical  fruits 
floated  in  its  liquid  light ;  a  few  fragrant  leaves  were 
dropped  upon  the  surface  of  the  generous  pool ;  cunning 
spices  gave  out  a  gently  mixed  aroma. 


THE  LAUNCHING  OF  THE  GOLDENROD.    435 

There  was  a  little  stir  toward  it  among  those  who 
saw ;  the  word  and  the  movement  were  caught  through 
the  open  rooms,  and  a  soft  surge  swept  the  company  to 
its  new  centre  of  gratification. 

Mr.  Henslee  took  up  the  ladle. 

"Before  we  drink,  friends,  I  have  something  to  claim 
your  kind  congratulation  for  beside  the  launching  of 
my  vessel.  It  is  a  good  time  to  tell  it,  and  it  has  been 
a  very  happy  time  for  it  to  happen.  I  have  the  great 
pleasure  —  and  honor  —  to  announce  to  you  my  son's 
engagement  of  marriage  to  Miss  Lilian  Hawtree." 

The  young  couple  stood  close  by;  Harry,  at  his  fa 
ther's  hint,  had  managed  it  so.  Lilian  had  not  been 
told  what  was  coming;  "why  should  she  dread  it  before 
hand  ?  "  Mr.  Henslee  had  asked.  He  knew  the  best 
thing  to  trust  to  would  be  her  delicate,  sure  instinct, 
and  her  lovely  simplicity. 

He  took  her  by  the  hand,  drew  her  toward  him,  bent 
to  her,  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead.  She  lifted  her 
sweet,  surprise-flushed  face  and  shy-dropped  eyes,  and 
met  his  look  upon  her  with  one  in  which  her  whole 
heart  shone  so  that  it  lighted  up  her  beauty  with  a 
glory.  Her  other  little  hand  laid  itself  upon  his ;  her 
soft  eyes  welled;  her  lips  trembled.  She  forgot  every 
thing  but  his  generous  adoption ;  it  was  that  only  which 
moved  her.  She  was  afraid,  abashed  of  nothing,  in  his 
strong  countenance  and  protection. 

Nobody  dared  to  whisper,  "It  is  the  milliner  girl." 
Various  enough  were  the  bits  of  remark  that  circulated 
more  or  less  guardedly  about  the  rooms,  and  wonderful, 
as  usual  upon  such  events,  the  bits  of  information  that 
here  and  there  answered  eager  inquiry. 

"Her  people  are  English,  they  say,  and  of  a  very 
good  old  name,  if  you  go  backward  and  sideways  far 
enough.  No  relations,  on  this  side,  happily,  except, 
I  believe,  some  sort  of  a  heavenly  old  grandmother. " 

The   lady   listening  to   this   looked   across   to  where 


436  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Lilian  stood,  beside  Miss  Henslee.  "She  '11  do,  I 
should  think, "  she  said  between  two  sips  of  her  claret. 

"She'll  have  to  do,"  returned  the  first  speaker. 
"And  we  may  all  make  up  our  minds  to  it." 

A  gentleman  joined  them.  "She  's  as  beautiful  as 
the  Mrs.  Henslee  in  the  hall,"  lie  declared.  "I  con 
gratulate  Topthorpe." 

And  so  Topthorpe  had  to  submit  to  be  congratulated, 
until  a  little  later  it  learned  thoroughly  to  congratulate 
itself. 

"The  Henslees  always  were  independent,"  was  heard 
in  another  corner.  "They  have  never  been  very  par 
ticular  about  marrying  in  their  own  set." 

"Their  own  set!  "  ejaculated  a  fine  looking  old  fa 
therly  aristocrat,  in  almost  perilous  distinctness.  "My 
dear  Mrs.  Portreeve,  their  own  set  is  pretty  much  all 
in  the  Chapel  Green  bury  ing-ground.  You  don't  find 
very  many  of  those  people  about  in  general  society  now 
adays.  But  such  as  are  left  of  them  know  sufficiently 
well  how  to  keep  up  the  real  character  of  the  stock. 
Trust  them  for  their  marriages." 

"  Did  you  name  your  ship  for  her,  or  for  the  veritable 
flower  of  the  field  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Brithwaite  of  Mr. 
Henslee,  standing  with  him  at  the  door  while  her  car 
riage  was  coming  up.  "She  has  the  colors  of  the 
goldenrod,  herself." 

Lilian  was  near  the  head  of  the  long  steps,  still  with 
Miss  Lucy  Henslee,  being  taken  leave  of  by  departing 
guests  with  gracious  observance. 

The  low  sunlight  through  the  trees  touched  her  whole 
figure  with  a  delicate,  broken  illumination.  Her  hair 
caught  it  in  brightly  gleaming  tints.  A  golden  sparkle 
shone  in  her  happy,  olive-shaded  eyes.  Tall,  in  her 
pretty  dress  of  a  soft  texture,  creamy  white  in  color, 
with  narrow  lines  of  satiny  maize  stripes,  and  knots  of 
the  same-hued  ribbons,  with  her  gentle  sway  of  quiet 
movement  and  her  natural,  unsedulous  calm  and  poise, 


THE   LAUNCHING  OF  THE   GOLDENBOD.     437 

she  was  the  very  impersonation  of  that  life  and  grace 
of  which  —  as  of  every  human  trait  and  quality  some 
thing  or  creature  does  —  the  simple  pasture  blossom 
stands  an  unpretending  type. 

"The  very  colors  —  and  the  very  air" —  repeated 
Mrs.  Brithwaite,  keeping  her  eyes  intently  on  the  un 
conscious  subject  of  her  remark,  while  Mr.  Henslee 
smiled  and  said  that  "things  had  grouped  and  illus 
trated  themselves ;  but  that  the  same  one  who  had 
chosen  the  flower  of  the  field  had  discovered  and 
brought  to  them  the  flower  of  the  family." 

Estabel,  herself  beautiful  in  her  own  appropriate  at 
tire  of  a  heliotrope-hued  gown  sprinkled  with  figures  of 
tiny  golden  stars,  had  come  with  Mrs.  Brithwaite  and 
Mary  to  the  door,  and  Mr.  Henslee  had  claimed  her 
with  a  reaching  out  of  his  hand  and  a  drawing  of  her 
close  beside  himself.  He  pressed  her  little  fingers  affec 
tionately  as  he  spoke. 

Hers  closed  gratefully  to  his  touch,  but  she  only  an 
swered  to  Mrs.  Brithwaite 's  comment. 

"I  have  always  thought  that  Lilian's  colors  were  the 
colors  of  the  mignonette,"  she  said. 

"And  so  they  are;  but  if  you  think  of  it,  the  golden- 
rod  has  broader  shades  of  just  the  same ;  and  to-day, 
I  think,  Miss  Hawtree  is  emphatically  the  goldenrod." 

"My  next  ship,"  said  Mr.  Henslee,  with  a  marked 
inflection  of  pride  and  tenderness,  "shall  be  called  the 
Aster." 


CHAPTER  LV. 

THE    GLADMOTHER    IS    ORACULAR. 

MR.  HENSLEE  had  invited  Dr.  North  to  the  launch 
and  lunch.  He  had  taken  the  trouble  to  walk  over  to 
Clover  Street  on  purpose,  and  see  the  doctor  at  his 
office.  But  Ulick  had  declined  with  courteous  thanks. 
"A  doctor  doesn't  have  time  for  such  things,"  he  said, 
smiling.  "He  has  to  hold  himself  in  readiness  for 
other  launchings  —  into  the  world  or  out  of  it." 

"A  doctor  ought  to  take  time  to  live."  Mr.  Henslee 
looked  at  the  other  man  with  a  kindly,  tolerating  inter 
est.  "You  may  leave  out  some  important  bits  of  your 
own  history,  putting  yourself  aside  so  inexorably. " 

Dr.  North  only  answered  with  another  smile,  and 
Mr.  Henslee  had  to  say,  "Well  —  good-day,"  and  leave 
it  so. 

"  He  spoke  as  if  he  meant  something. "  Ulick  said  to 
himself  as  he  closed  the  door  and  went  back  to  his  arm 
chair.  "Only  he  couldn't  possibly  have  anything  to 
mean." 

The  next  day  a  neat,  careful  little  note,  in  a  prim, 
small  hand  of  a  fashion  two  generations  old,  sealed  with 
a  tiny  transparent  wafer,  came  to  Dr.  North  in  his 
mail.  It  ran  thus:  — 

DEAR  DR.  ULICK  NORTH,  —  They  say  it  is  not  likely 
you  will  be  at  the  launch  to-morrow.  That  is  a  pity, 
for  I  think  it  would  interest  you  and  do  you  good. 
And  besides,  I  want  to  see  you.  Please  make  a  holi 
day  if  possible,  and  come  out  for  a  pleasant  surprise. 


THE  GLADMOTHER  IS  ORACULAR.    439 

Afterward,  if  you  can  take  the  time  to  call  over  here, 
I  shall  be  very  much  obliged. 

Your  attached  and  grateful  old  friend, 

REBECCA  TRUBIN. 

Ulick  North  decided  that  this  was  a  professional  call. 
If  he  could  not  go  to  launches  or  lunches,  he  need  not 
neglect  an  old  patient. 

"She  doesn't  say  she  needs  me,  but  it  may  mean 
more  than  she  says." 

He  read  over  the  innocently  ambiguous  lines,  without 
discovering  all  their  ambiguity. 

"I  can  skip  the  shipyard  —  and  the  party.  I  can't 
spare  time  for  everything.  But  I  '11  run  down  for  an 
hour  or  so  and  see  the  Gladmother.  Nobody  else  — 
that  signifies  —  will  be  at  home." 

So  by  the  forenoon  train  that  took  a  gay  crowd  out 
from  Topthorpe,  landing  it  at  the  flag  station  at  Still- 
wiok  Corners,  Dr.  North  went  down,  taking  a  seat  early 
at  the  extreme  forward  end  of  the  first  car,  and,  avoid 
ing  all  chance  recognition  and  encounter,  kept  on  to  the 
Bridge  Village  terminus,  which  gave  him  only  a  three 
minutes'  walk  to  the  Charlock  cottage.  There  would 
be  a  return  to  Topthorpe  an  hour  later,  in  time  for  him 
to  keep  his  afternoon  office  hours. 

Mrs.  Trubin  was  alone,  except  for  the  presence  in 
the  house  and  shop,  respectively,  of  the  chorewoman 
and  Eliza  Gillespy,  who  —  the  latter  —  had  promised 
to  "see  after  Mis'  Trubin,  an'  set  with  her  all  she 
could."  Eliza  Gillespy  would  rather,  any  day,  run  the 
shop  than  see  a  launch,  notwithstanding  that  in  the 
present  instance  the  conflicting  of  the  two  affairs  might 
practically  leave  the  shop  for  the  most  part  to  run 
itself. 

"Why  didn't  you  stop  at  the  Corners?  "  the  Glad- 
mother  asked  Ulick. 


440  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Couldn't  spare  so  much  time.  I  came  down  to  see 
you. " 

"You  've  missed  something.  But  I  'm  afraid  that 's 
nothing  new.  You  're  in  the  habit  of  missing  things, 
are  n't  you?  " 

"I  suppose  we  all  are.  The  world  is  full  -of  things. 
And  nohody  can  have  all  of  them." 

"  Every  body  can  have  all  that  belongs  to  that  body, " 
said  the  Gladmother  in  her  sententious  and  quaintly 
accurate  English.  "And  it 's  just  as  unfair  to  be  un 
fair  to  one  's  self  as  not  to  give  other  folks  their  proper 
rights ;  besides  rights  being  so  mixed  up  that  you  can 
hardly  ever  do  the  one  without  the  other." 

"There  doesn't  seem  to  be  much  of  the  kind  of  de 
frauding  that  comes  by  not  looking  out  for  number  one, 
I  think,  as  the  world  goes." 

"There's  a  terrible  deal  of  it,"  insisted  the  Glad- 
mother.  "There  's  a  precious  few  that  know  what 's 
best  for  themselves,  let  alone  taking  it.  And  not  know 
ing,  and  not  taking,  is  a  cheat,  every  time." 

"There  does  n't  appear  to  be  any  way  of  helping  it. " 

"Yes,  there  's  a  way,  and  it  's  always  working;  only 
we  won't  give  it  the  chance,  and  take  our  chances." 

"  Did  you  send  for  me  to  tell  me  that  ?  "  Ulick  drew 
his  look  inward  from  the  window  through  which  he  had 
been  gazing  off  vaguely,  and  fixed  it  with  a  sudden 
searchingness  upon  the  Gladmother's  quiet  face. 

"Well,  partly,"  she  answered  him.  "Only  of  course 
I  didn't  know  you  would  put  quite  so  much  upon  me. 
That  comes  of  not  being  fair  to  yourself.  If  you  had 
gone  to  the  launch  —  as  the  self  you  are  cheating 
wanted  to  —  you  would  have  heard  something  —  that  I 
thought  you  'd  better  hear.  It  might  have  made  a  dif 
ference.  Of  course,  you  'd  know  it  before  long;  I  shall 
tell  you  now,  myself.  But  all  the  same,  you  have  n't 
taken  things  as  they  might  have  come,  and  that  is  what 
always  hinders." 


THE   GLADMOTHER   IS   ORACULAR.        441 

"You  are  very  oracular,  Gladmother.  Has  any 
thing  happened  —  that  can  possibly  concern  me  ?  " 

He  put  the  question  with  the  effect  of  a  skeptical 
indifference ;  really  it  was  with  a  reckless  forcing  from 
her  of  the  worst  at  once. 

"Yes.  That  is,  something  has  happened.  The 
concerning  —  whether  or  not  —  is  your  concern.  We  are 
all  interested.  Y^oung  Mr.  Harrison  Henslee  and  Lilian 
are  engaged.  It  is  to  be  told  to-day." 

"Hoo!  "  said  the  doctor.  But  he  said  it  softly.  It 
did  not  sound  as  it  probably  will  be  pronounced  in  the 
reading.  It  was  a  sudden,  half-articulated  breath, 
peculiar  to  himself  when  a  new  element,  of  surprise 
or  of  consideration,  presented  itself  to  apprehension  or 
reasoning.  It  was  the  release  of  tension ;  it  left  him 
cool,  controlled. 

"I  thought  it  was  the  other  one,"  he  said. 

If  Mrs.  Trubin,  or  anybody  else,  supposed  that  Ulick 
North  would  easily  betray  all  he  felt  or  thought  upon 
the  moment,  when  any  unforeseen  development  occurred, 
they  would  have  failed  to  take  into  the  account  either 
his  idiosyncrasy  or  his  training. 

But  Mrs.  Trubin  did  not  need  that  he  should  betray. 
Dr.  North  might  be  as  cool  as  water,  but  to  the  Glad- 
mother  he  was  also  as  transparent. 

"  I  thought  you  thought  so, "  she  remarked  serenely, 
and  took  up  her  knitting  work  from  off  her  lap.  He 
was  so  transparent  at  that  moment  that  she  felt  an  in 
stinct  of  honor  not  to  watch  his  face. 

Not  a  feature  moved;  but  like  a  landscape  that  had 
lain  in  shadow,  a  light  broke  over  it  as  if  a  cloud  had 
passed  by  from  between  it  and  the  sun. 

The  Gladmother  knitted  a  row,  and  turned  her  ivory 
needle.  Then  she  looked  up. 

"Are  you  glad?  "  she  asked  him. 

"Certainly  I  am  glad,"  he  said.  "I  have  not  out 
grown  being  glad  when  other  people  are  happy.  And  I 
thank  you  for  telling  me,  Mrs.  Trubin." 


442  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Ulick  North,  I  am  an  old  woman." 

"As  there  are  but  few,"  he  answered,  with  one  of 
his  rarest  smiles. 

"And  you  haven't  any  grandmother.  And  there's 
nobody  that  can  take  a  liberty  with  you,  unless  it  's 
me." 

"A  liberty  is  a  thing  that  depends  on  the  occasion 
and  the  need." 

"Now  you  are  oracular.  But  I  suppose  it 's  your 
business  to  be,  and  you  don't  look  fierce.  What  I 
want  to  say  is  only  this :  You  mean,  I  think,  to  be  an 
entirely  honest  man." 

She  stated  it;  she  did  not  ask  it.  There  was  not 
the  slightest  rising  inflection  in  her  voice. 

"I  certainly  do  intend  to  be." 

"And  to  live  the  truth,  plain  out?  And  let  it  be 
seen  and  understood,  the  whole  of  it,  as  the  truth  ought 
to  be?" 

"Is  that  invariably  possible?  The  truth  is  not  even 
to  be  spoken,  at  all  times." 

"Especially  when  it  has  been  kept  back  a  good  while, 
and  seems  to  have  lost  its  opportunity  ?  " 

"You  are  a  very  keen  woman,  Gladmother." 

"I  am  keen  for  those  I  love.  You  have  kept  back 
something,  Ulick  North,  even  from  yourself  —  or  your 
permission  —  until  you  don't  know  whether  to  allow  it, 
or  tell  it,  or  not.  And  I  think  you  owe  it  to  yourself, 
and  most  likely  to  somebody  else  —  not  to  keep  it  back 
much  longer." 

Dr.  North  met  the  gentle  boldness  of  her  look  with 
a  singular  expression,  at  once  of  kindly  candor  and  an 
unrelinquished  reticent  control. 

"You  are  by  no  means  the  creature  who  rushes  in, 
Mrs.  Trubin ;  but  you  are  clearly  not  the  angel  who 
fears  to  tread, "  he  told  her. 

"Not  where  I  am  led,  or  sent,"  she  responded. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

SHRIFT. 

IT  was  suddenly  as  if  the  axis  of  the  earth  had 
shifted. 

New  conditions  were  to  be  adapted  to,  a  new  course 
taken. 

Ulick  North  no  longer  denied  to  himself  the  obvious 
reality.  It  had  been  put  to  him  twice  from  the  out 
side.  Mr.  Henslee  had  said  to  him,  "You  may  leave 
out  something  of  your  own  history,  putting  yourself  by 
so  inflexibly ;  "  and  the  Gladmother  had  fearlessly  de 
clared  to  him,  "You  have  kept  back  something  that  you 
owe  it  to  yourself  —  and  maybe  some  one  else  —  not  to 
keep  back  much  longer. "  And  his  own  honest  con 
sciousness,  the  consciousness  of  the  very  gladness  that 
filled  his  heart  in  learning  that  Estabel  had  not  chosen 
the  easy  way,  and  that  she  "wadna  wed  the  Earlie's 
son, "  —  for  he  had  never  doubted  for  a  moment  that 
she  might  have  done  so  if  she  would,  —  compelled  him 
to  as  honest  a  conclusion  that  he  must  permit  the  truth 
within  himself,  and  make  it  known  to  her  at  the  right 
time,  to  do  with  as  she  would.  It  belonged  to  her, 
and  she  must  have  it. 

So  far  was  clear;  but  the  right  time,  and  the  sure 
circumstance  that  could  make  time  right,  and  the  word 
pertinent  ?  These  were  not  clear. 

He  knew  himself;  but  after  all,  what  did  he  know 
of  her,  except  the  outside  happening  ?  He  had  not 
doubted  where  the  power  of  choice  lay ;  but  what  if  he 
had  been  mistaken?  There  had  been  mistake  some- 


444  SQUARE  PEGS. 

where  in  his  conviction  of  the  matter;  what  if  it  had 
been  upon  that  other  side  ? 

She  might  have  cared  for  the  Earlie's  son,  that 
which  she  had  expected  might  not  have  come  to  her; 
she  might  not,  of  her  own  will,  have  turned  from  the 
easy  way;  it  might  have  proved  the  barred,  impossible 
way.  And  what  claim  had  he  to  ask,  that  he  might 
know  ?  He  had  held  willfully  back  from  claim ;  he  had 
shown  no  personal  concern.  There  would  be  a  long 
approach  to  make,  to  bring  him  near  enough,  since  he 
had  not  kept  near  when  it  was  too  dangerously  dear  to 
do  so.  He  called  himself  a  coward  and  a  fool.  He 
had  come  to  his  senses,  and  he  could  dare,  as  far  as  the 
mere  daring  went,  to  be  absolutely  honest,  were  it  the 
fair  or  decent  thing  to  be  honest  in  such  a  hurry. 

He  had  not  been  fair  to  Estabel,  nor  to  himself. 
He  had  the  long  way  back  to  travel  that  the  mistaken 
or  faulty  course  devolves  upon  all  wanderers.  He  could 
not  go  to  Estabel  and  say,  "I  have  always  loved  you." 
He  had  done  nothing  to  make  it  possible  for  her  to 
believe  so  late  and  contradictory  a  word. 

It  would  seem  now,  to  a  looker-on,  as  if  things  might 
easily  come  right.  A  very  little  incident  ought  to  do 
it.  Providence  or  a  story-teller  might  so  readily  put 
that  incident  in,  and  lo!  the  story  would  be  told.  But 
it  is  not  so  simple  a  matter  for  a  story-teller,  or.  it 
would  appear,  even  for  Providence,  to  adjust  square 
pegs.  And  square  pegs  are  what  we  have  to  deal  with. 
•  Dr.  North  had  got  it  into  his  head  that  not  only 
must  he  take  time  and  be  patient,  in  order  to  establish 
such  change  of  base  as  would  allow  him  to  make  further 
movement  consistently  with  his  own  character  and  the 
respect  he  owed  to  Estabel,  but  a  scruple  had  seized 
him, —  a  scruple  that  could  have  seized  no  other  than  just 
such  a  man,  —  that  to  be  utterly  honest,  he  must  not  only 
take  a  new  attitude,  but  present  himself  without  the 
least  disguise  to  this  girl's  judgment;  let  her  see  him  as 


SHRIFT.  445 

perhaps,  if  she  did  so  see,  any  glamour  of  her  partial 
knowledge  might  fade  away,  any  half-developed  sympa 
thies  might  find  themselves  brought  against  a  barrier, 
and  conscience,  or  temperament  —  her  way  of  looking  at 
things  and  accounting  their  relative  importance  —  might 
interpose  against  her  nearer  inclination  and  his  desire. 

Long  ago  his  doubts  of  her,  in  herself,  had  vanished. 
He  had  confessed  to  himself  that  he  had  found  some- 
tiling  which  he  had  refused  to  credit  as  existing;  but 
he  had  found  it  existing  in  a  young,  unspoiled,  untried 
nature.  He  had  still  refused  all  easy  faith  that  it  might 
survive  its  inevitable  contact  with  the  world,  the  flesh, 
and  the  devil.  These  were  tangible  forces,  evident 
every  day ;  he  acknowledged  the  tangible,  and  thought 
he  knew  in  his  experience  that  the  unsubstantial  fled  or 
yielded  before  it.  He  had  waited  to  see  if  it  would  so 
yield  in  Estabel.  But  he  had  seen  her  grow  in  grace 
and  moral  stature ;  he  had  no  longer  any  personal  cavil 
or  contradiction  for  her.  It  was  at  this  point  that  he 
began,  with  an  instinct  that  he  obeyed  without  analysis, 
to  feel  and  shun  a  danger;  and  the  danger  grew,  and 
the  shunning  became  a  persistence  with  him,  when  he 
had  supposed,  with  all  the  rest  of  her  little  world,  that 
her  life  was  laid  out  for  her,  and  that  in  no  way  could 
it  be  of  consequence  —  unless  he  were  weak  enough  to 
make  it  of  regretful  consequence  —  to  him.  He  had 
had  enough  of  regrets,  enough  of  weakness;  he  buckled 
his  armor  on  against  any  further  shafts  of  fate,  and 
thought  himself  not  weak,  but  strong. 

But  the  doubts  of  her  had  sprung  from  other  doubts 
that  had  not  yet  vanished.  Exceptions  only  proved  the 
rule.  He  was  still  distrustful,  still  adrift  from  happy 
certainties  that  he  knew  she  clung  to.  He  was  capable 
of  loving  her  —  what  a  leap,  almost  of  anguish,  his 
strong  heart  gave  as  he  confessed  this  to  himself !  —  but 
he  was  not  capable,  or  ready,  to  hold  fast,  with  her,  that 
which  is  so  of  inmost  love  that  it  becomes  knowledge,  —  a 


446  SQUARE  PEGS. 

knowledge  that  needs  be  mutual  in  all  derived  affec 
tions,  or  else  become  a  separation.  For  love  that  is  of 
inmost  demands  the  inmost. 

He  thought  she  would  demand  of  him  this  faith ;  that 
she  would  impute  it  to  him  unless  he  expressly  repu 
diated  it.  He  was  too  honest  to  let  her  do  this;  he 
was  too  honest  to  agree  to  believe  because  other  people 
agreed.  He  must  come  to  it  by  conviction.  Facts, 
incongruities,  stopped  him.  The  faith  of  the  world 
seemed  to  him  conventional. 

Once  Estabel  had  said  to  him,  "You  believe  more, 
Dr.  North,  than  you  are  willing  to  believe."  And  he 
had  replied  with  another  epigram,  "I  am  willing  to 
believe  all  there  is,  but  nothing  there  is  not,  however 
much  I  would  like  it  to  be." 

These  things  he  brought  up  again,  of  set  purpose,  in 
his  resumed  occasional  visits  to  the  Charlock  cottage 
through  those  early  autumn  months.  He  was  careful 
not  to  make  these  visits  too  frequent  of  occasion,  or  — 
as  he  thought  —  of  too  marked  change  in  character. 
He  came  for  the  Gladmother's  asking;  it  was  easy  now 
to  come  by  rail;  his  stays  were  brief,  but  he  dropped  in 
among  the  family  as  any  friendly  visitor  might.  When 
Dr.  North  comported  himself  like  other  people,  he  be 
came  more  exceptional  than  he  was  well  aware. 

He  was  no  longer  cynical  and  slighting  to  others. 
Estabel  found  in  him  a  wonderful  transformation,  or 
reversion,  to  a  nobility  yiat  was  noble  enough  to  be  also 
sweet.  But  this  appeared  in  spite  of  his  intent ;  he  was 
very  severe  and  unsparing  in  all  voluntary  self-presen 
tation. 

It  was  never  difficult  to  lead  the  Gladmother's 
thought  and  speech  to  the  inner  things.  It  seemed  as 
if  Dr.  North  did  this  purposely  to  declare  himself  out 
side.  Yet  if  he  had  been  really  and  absolutely  outside 
—  and  this  Estabel  of  her  keener  vision  divined  —  he 
would  have  made  no  sign  or  inquiry  at  barred  doors. 


SHRIFT.  447 

They  had  fragments  of  talk  after  this  fashion :  — 

"Belief  is  what  a  person  would  be  lief  to  think," 
Ulick  said  one  day  when  they  were  all  together,  taking 
up  that  word,  casually  spoken. 

"Just  exactly  that,"  the  Gladmother  agreed,  unex 
pectedly. 

When  an  adversary  drops  a  bit  of  argument  in  that 
way,  the  effect  is  always  rather  like  a  step  down  which 
one  takes  as  on  a  supposed  level.  Dr.  North  lifted 
his  eyebrows,  but  said  nothing.  Mrs.  Trubin  placidly 
waited. 

"Then  you  allow  that  it  is  choice  ?  "  —  Ulick  put  it  to 
her,  after  the  pause.  "That  every  man  can  make  his 
own  belief?  To  grant  that  would  go  far  to  stop  con 
troversy,  of  course." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  Everybody  would  see 
the  same  thing  in  the  main,  because  we  're  all  human, 
and  we  all  want  the  same ;  but  each  one  would  see  it 
differently,  and  so  there  would  always  be  dispute.  But 
that  wasn't  what  you  said,  and  I  agreed  to." 

"  Case  in  point, "  laughed  the  doctor.  "  I  said  we 
believe  what  we  would  be  willing  to  have  true.  I  'd 
like  it  so,  and  so,  belike,  it  is  so.  Beliking  and  be 
lief  are  pretty  much  identical." 

"Aren't  believing  and  beliving  more  identical? 
Don't  we  have  to  believe  what  we  can't  live  without? 
We  believe  in  the  air  we  breathe,  but  we  don't  stop 
to  prove  it  is  there  before  we  take  it  in.  Every  baby 
that  is  born  into  the  world  opens  its  little  lungs  with 
that  sort  of  faith.  And  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of 
the  Spirit." 

"Ah,  there  you  come  to  facts."  Dr.  North  ac 
cepted  the  baby  illustration,  but  postponed  the  analogy. 
"Facts  are  true  just  as  far  as  they  go,  but  theory  is 
never  fact  until  facts  demonstrate  it." 

"I  think  theory  and  fact  are  very  much  like  the  egg 
and  the  chicken,"  said  Estabel.  "Which  comes  first?  " 


448  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"The  outcome  of  that  question  is  that  you  can't 
settle  it." 

"  Do  we  need  to  settle  it  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  I  should  think  sometimes  it  settled 
itself.  Depends  on  whether  you  're  trying  to  hatch 
eggs,  or  raise  chickens  to  lay  them.  In  the  meantime, 
for  common  reasoning  and  practical  purposes,  we  want 
facts  first.  The  universe  is  built  on  fact." 

"Maybe  there  's  something  facter  than  fact." 

The  Gladmother  left  the  discussion  to  Estabel  with 
a  smile.  Ulick  North  turned  more  directly  to  the  girl, 
and  answered  her  quickly.  "Factor  or  fact,  I  suppose 
you  mean  ?  "  he  said. 

"Perhaps  I  mean  the  first  fact  —  in  the  First  Na 
ture.  Can  any  work  do  without  theory?  Can  your 
profession,  for  example  ?  " 

"It 's  the  egg  and  the  chicken  again.  Theory  grows 
from  fact,  and  presupposes  other  fact.  Theory  must 
find  its  fact,  each  way.  It  cannot  prove  itself." 

"I  suppose  God  theorized  the  world  before  He  made 
it." 

"That  may  be  begging  the  question.  But  if  He  did, 
the  power  of  proof  lay  with  Him,  as  we  do  not  find  it 
lies  with  us." 

"No.  We  only  look  on,  while  He  shows;  and  we 
say  what  it  seems  to  say  to  us." 

"That  is  the  Word,"  put  in  the  Gladmother  softly, 
as  in  aside  to  herself. 

"You  define  it  precisely,  Miss  Estabel.  A  theory 
is  a  view;  in  etymological  signification,  the  way  some 
body  looks  at  a  thing.  Which  brings  us  back;  man 
knows  no  further  than  he  sees." 

"And  sees  no  further  than  his  nose.      Chooty-choo!  " 

Miss  Charlock  was  more  successful  with  her  antithesis 
than  usual ;  probably  because  she  had  only  half  of  it  to 
manage. 

Everybody  laughed ;  the  gravity  of  the  debate  was 
broken,  and  it  dropped. 


SHRIFT.  449 

Very  metaphysical  wooing,  doubtless,  but  it  was  a 
step  in  the  wooing,  none  the  less ;  for  Ulick  had  thus 
far  disburthened  his  conscience.  And  Estabel  was  say 
ing  secretly  within  herself,  "How  true  he  is!  How 
strong  he  will  be  for  the  faith  that  is  in  him,  when  he 
finds  it  out !  " 

Another  time  it  was  a  question  of  observance.  It 
came  up  with  mention  of  a  great  preacher  of  the  day, 
who  was  stirring  minds  and  hearts  with  his  fresh,  free 
presentations  of  the  verities  of  life  and  of  human  souls ; 
bringing  these  verities  face  to  face,  the  one  to  recognize 
the  other. 

Dr.  North  confessed  again.  He  seized  alertly  the 
opportunity  of  a  casual  reference  to  a  newspaper  para 
graph  concerning  the  crowds  which  were  filling  the 
splendid  church  Sunday  after  Sunday,  and  the  consequent 
natural  inquiry  whether  he,  Ulick,  had  heard  the  man. 

"No,"  he  made  rough  avowal.  "I  don't  run  with 
the  machine.  I  'm  not  a  church-goer." 

"One  need  not  always  go  to  church  to  get  the  truth," 
said  the  Gladmother,  refusing  to  be  shocked  or  remon- 
strative.  "It  is  always  with  us.  But  we  want  the 
reminders.  That  is  why  the  Bible  is  the  Book  of 
Life." 

"I  'm  not  much  of  a  Bible  reader,  either,"  persisted 
the  doctor.  "That  is,  as  a  matter  of  routine  or  obliga 
tion.  I  've  rather  an  idea  that  there  's  a  Bible  in  every 
man's  experience,  as  he  goes  along." 

"That  was  how  the  Bible  got  written,  '  aforetime, 
for  our  learning, '  "  remarked  the  Gladmother  quietly. 
"A  ship's  captain  takes  an  observation  every  day,"  she 
added,  with  a  keen,  kind  look  over  her  glasses  at  Ulick. 

"Yes.  To  find  out  where  he  is.  Morally,  we  need 
not  be  at  a  loss.  We  have  conscience." 

"The  captain  has  his  chronometer." 

Estabel's  eyes  shone,  and  she  took  up  the  word. 


450  SQUARE   PEGS. 

"We  can't  live  by  dead  reckoning,  you  see.  We 
want  the  sun  and  stars." 

Ulick  North  regarded  her  with  something  more  of 
intensity  than  he  was  aware. 

"Yes,  we  want  the  stars.  Thank  God,  we  have 
them.  The  heavens  set  the  watch  for  us,  after  all.  I 
allow  that.  But  I  don't  quite  admit  the  parallel. 
There  's  a  vast  deal  of  mechanical  repetition,  and  not 
a  little  heaving  to  in  mid-course,  for  soundings  that 
don't  sound,  and  observance  that  isn't  true  heavenly 
observation.  I  object  to  formalities,  and  concessions 
to  a  mere  established  expectation.  So  I  have  got  out 
of  the  way  —  for  that  reason,  and  from  other  causes  — 
of  public  worshiping.  At  least, "  he  added  lightly, 
"  I  escape  being  a  Pharisee  —  so  far  as  in  not  going  up 
to  the  temple  to  pray." 

"The  temple  —  and  the  closet  —  are  God's  place  in 
ourselves.  We  can't  keep  out  of  that,"  replied  the 
Gladmother. 

"I'd  rather  hear  you  preach  than  Dr.  Freehold," 
said  Ulick  gently-.  "All  the  same,  I  don't  pretend  to 
be  a  religious  man,  after  the  common  understanding. 
I  'm  too  busy  living." 

"That  's  very  good  religion  —  as  far  as  it  goes,"  was 
the  Gladmother 's  placid  rejoinder. 

Plainly,  she  would  not  be  shocked,  if  he  had  wished 
to  shock  her.  She  lived  too  broadly  in  her  own  whole 
nature. 

"But "  —  she  went  on,  emphasizing  the  little  con 
junction  with  which  she  linked  to  her  admission  the 
completing  half  of  its  perfect  truth —  "a  good  work 
man  looks  to  his  Master  all  the  time." 

"He  isn't  all  the  time  talking  to  him,"  Ulick  main 
tained,  as  nearly  with  a  scoff  as  would  have  been  sincere 
to  his  real  mood.  "A  soldier  doesn't  ask  questions 
or  make  explanations  in  the  ranks.  His  duty  is  in 
doing.  And  he  doesn't  need,  nor  expect,  to  get  his 


SHRIFT.  451 

orders  over  and  over,  or  to  reason  out  to  his  own  satis 
faction  the  whole  plan  of  the  campaign.  He  just 
marches  and  fights,  according  to  the  moment's  com 
mand." 

"As  far  as  that  goes,"  the  old  lady  repeated,  "it  is 
good  religion.  But  it  isn't  the  whole,  or  the  happiest, 
of  our  concern  with  the  Lord.  There,  we  have  privi 
leges.  Every  man  is  a  special  one  with  Him,  and  not 
just  a  piece  of  the  rank  and  file.  He  asks  us  to  come 
and  tell  Him  things.  He  means  to  show  us  all  things 
that  He  does.  He  isn't  too  great  to  take  us  into  his 
confidence;  He  wants  us  to  understand  Him.  He  is 
telling  us  of  Himself  all  the  time,  and  how  can  we  help 
telling  ourselves  back  ?  " 

"Isn't  life  speech?  And  an  infinite  knowledge 
might  preclude,  one  would  think,  our  telling." 

Again  P^stabel's  eyes  flashed  up.  Again  there  was 
something  on  her  lips  to  say,  but  she  hesitated  in  the 
saying.  Dr.  North's  look  met  hers,  and  held  it. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  asked  her,  and  his  tone  claimed  her 
thought,  gently,  but  with  an  eagerness.  He  had  not 
seemed  to  be  watching  her,  but  he  had  lost  no  change 
nor  stir  of  her  face ;  he  had  felt  her  reception  of  every 
word.  How  else,  when  all  through  whatever  talk  it 
was  his  heart  seeking  to  lay  itself  open  to  the  verdict 
of  hers  ? 

"I  was  thinking,"  she  answered  him  slowly,  "it 
seemed  to  me  so  very  simple.  If  you  cared  very  much 
for  anybody,  and  they  cared  very  much  for  you,  and 
all  your  life  was  more  or  less  influenced  by  them, "  — 
in  her  effort  at  impersonality  she  quite  freed  herself 
from  all  bondage  to  pronouns,  —  "would  you  be  willing 
to  go  through  the  world  without  any  direct  saying 
of  it  ?  " 

"It  might  not  be  possible  for  me  to  do  otherwise," 
Dr.  North  replied,  with  a  suddenness  and  a  certain 
curious  shifting  of  tone,  as  quitting  abstract  argument  to 


452  SQUARE  PEGS. 

confront  the  personal  application.  "Circumstances  — 
or  my  nature  —  might  not  allow." 

"There  's  one  thing  pretty  likely  to  be  certain,"  said 
Estabel,  cheerfully  incognizant.  "People  who  don't 
speak  easily  mean  more  when  they  do  speak  than  those 
who  are  talking  all  the  time." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  gay,  frank  triumph,  as 
if  she  had  pierced  through  his  armor  of  antagonism, 
and  understood  himself  better  than  his  cavil. 

It  gave  him  a  sudden  pleasant  sense  of  absolution. 

He  had  discharged  his  conscience;  it  might  be  he 
need  not  cavil  so  very  scrupulously  much  more. 

And,  somehow,  the  passing  of  a  certain  resolved  ten 
sion  from  the  set  of  his  features,  and  the  overspread  of 
a  quiet  relaxation,  were  more  to  her  than  word  or  actual 
smile  in  answer. 

He  did  not  know  that  he  had  answered ;  he  shut  the 
response  within  himself,  recalling  himself  altogether 
from  the  discussion ;  and  after  his  peculiar  fashion  al 
ready  noted  said  something  quite  irrelevant  and  com 
monplace,  that  was  very  like  the  dropping  of  a  latch 
when  one  has  closed  a  door. 

"Do  you  clearly  comprehend  that  man?"  Aunt  Es 
ther  asked  of  Mrs.  Trubin  that  day  when  he  had  gone. 

"Some  ways,  I  do,"  the  old  lady  answered. 

"  Must  be  precious  little  ways,  seems  to  me, "  re 
turned  Miss  Charlock.  "He  's  mighty  deliberate. 
When  folks  get  good  an'  ready,  things  ain't  always 
pat,  according;  and  things  don't  always  come  accord 
ing,  just  when  folks  get  good  an'  ready.  Guess  my 
cake  needs  turning."  And  with  these  semi-detached 
utterances  she  departed  to  her  kitchen. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

LADY    OF    HENSLEIGH. 

No  one  could  mistake  the  meaning  of  Estabel's 
bright  face  and  buoyant  bearing  in  these  days  of  wedding 
preparation  for  anything  but  their  direct,  innocent  sig 
nificance, —  a  pure  pleasure  and  an  infinite  content.  The 
theory  of  any  possible  personal  disappointment  or  set 
ting  aside  of  self  in  sacrifice  fell  to  pieces  of  its  own 
weight.  It  was  not  so  inevitable  that  the  sign  should 
be  read  clear  through.  She  did  not  stop  to  read  it  so 
herself.  Everything  beautiful  had  come  easily  to  pass, 
so  far ;  the  future  was  full  of  beautiful  peradventures 
hastening  on  their  way.  Our  moods  are  both  prescient 
and  reflective ;  the  touching  of  a  single  chord,  of  pain 
or  joy,  echoes  all  that  we  have  known,  or  rings  on  to 
all  we  hope,  of  either ;  and  sometimes  the  touch  is  such 
a  slight  and  subtle  thing  that  we  know  not  why  we  are 
either  sad  or  gay. 

Estabel  did  not  ask,  and  nobody  about  her  guessed, 
what  was  the  happy  secret  behind  her  happiness  just 
now.  A  bird  in  her  bosom  stirred  softly,  and  sang ;  that 
was  all,  —  not  its  whole  song ;  only  the  little  pulsing 
music  of  the  waiting  notes  that  should  make  the  perfect 
melody;  a  breathing  of  them  under  breath,  as  the  bird 
twitters  in  the  nest  at  daybreak. 

Why  was  not  the  keynote  given  to  which  it  would 
have  fully  waked  and  answered  ? 

Why  was  not  somebody,  in  Aunt  Esther's  quaint 
and  homely  phrasing,  "good  and  ready"  while  every 
thing  was  so  "  according  "  ? 


454  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Why  should  the  life  music  have  had  to  hush  itself 
again  in  a  repressive  doubt  ? 

Dr.  North  was  content,  also ;  he  was  not  refusing 
his  own  life  obstinately  any  more,  as  he  had  done.  He 
was  only  giving  it  time,  he  thought,  to  come  reasonably 
and  fairly  to  its  fulfillment.  A  little  longer,  and  he 
would  speak,  if  no  further  forbidding  silenced  him.  It 
was  pleasant  to  drift,  just  now,  with  all  these  pleasant 
things,  as  if  they  might  not,  after  all,  be  discrepant 
with  his  own  faring  and  allotment.  He  would  not 
startle  Estabel,  nor  risk  his  hope,  by  inconsistent  pre 
cipitation  ;  let  this  present  engrossment  have  its  day, 
and  pass  on ;  by  and  by  might  come  a  day  that  should 
be  all  theirs;  he  would  wait  the  fitting,  more  confident 
time;  for  the  now,  he  was  content. 

So  he  proposed,  and  made  no  reckoning  of  other 
strange  disposal. 

The  wedding  was  as  simple  as  a  wedding  could  be. 
Various  suggestions  had  been  made  about  it ;  it  had 
been  a  little  difficult  to  plan  with  perfect  suitableness 
and  due  regard  to  circumstance.  House  or  church  — 
Topthorpe  or  Stillwick  —  the  world  kept  out  or  the 
world  let  in  —  these  were  questions  that  had  to  be  set 
tled,  and  that  did  not  in  the  ordinary  ways  settle  them 
selves. 

Mrs.  Brithwaite  had  asked  Lilian  and  the  Glad- 
mother  to  come  to  her  for  a  visit  in  which  all  needed 
preparation  could  be  made,  and  which  the  ceremony 
should  conclude.  This  came  nearest  to  satisfaction  of 
anything,  save  what  was  finally  decided.  It  was  the 
Gladmother  who  at  last  put  the  matter  in  clear,  posi 
tive  light. 

"I  think,"  she  said  to  Harry,  "that  you  don't  need 
to  build  a  bridge.  Your  life  and  hers  have  met.  You 
take  her  where  you  find  her,  and  you  just  lead  her  over 
the  line.  Then  you  will  both  be  at  home,  in  your  own 


LADY  OF  HENSLEIGH.  455 

place,  and  the  new  way  of  living  will  begin.  Is  n't  the 
best  way  to  do  a  thing  the  straightest?  Lilian  hasn't 
anybody  but  me,  and  she  has  no  home  but  this,  where 
we  have  been  made  welcome  together;  but  a  bride  goes 
out  from  her  own  family  and  home  to  be  a  wife,  and 
not  from  the  home  of  any  third  person,  if  it  can  be 
helped,  and  of  all  third  persons,  if  we  had  to  think  of 
it  in  that  way,  Miss  Charlock  has  the  right." 

And  Harry  and  his  father  and  Miss  Henslee  all 
agreed  that  the  Gladmother's  word  was  the  fit  one,  and 
not  to  be  gainsaid. 

Stillwick  was  so  beautiful  in  that  sweet  Indian  sum 
mer  weather !  All  through  November  it  was  prolonged, 
and  lent  itself  graciously  to  the  plans  that  took  shape 
readily  enough,  around  the  one  fixed  point,  as  plans  do, 
when  that  is  given. 

They  were  married  at  the  cottage.  The  world  waited. 
Its  time  was  not  quite  yet.  The  rector  of  the  little 
church  in  Topthorpe  where  the  Gladniother  and  Lilian 
had  attended,  where  Lilian  had  been  taught  in  Sunday 
school,  and  later  been  confirmed  in  the  inheritance  of 
Christ's  "whole  blessed  company,"  came  down  to  join 
their  hands  and  pronounce  the  priestly  sanction. 

Only  Mrs.  Brithwaite  p.nd  Mary  and  Ulick  North, 
from  Topthorpe ;  and  Miss  Eliza  Gillespy,  with  a  few 
other  Stillwick  friends  —  the  kind  old  doctor  and  the 
village  pastor,  with  their  wives,  —  the  good  minis 
ter  being  given  an  "assisting"  bit  of  the  service,  and 
astonished  by  what  he  afterward  found  in  the  envelope 
slipped  into  his  hand  —  were  present,  in  addition  to  the 
family  on  each  side. 

Miss  Charlock's  modest  rooms  were  fresh  with  pure 
white  hangings,  and  lovely  with  rare  flowers  sent  in  a 
great  hamper  by  the  bridegroom.  The  parlor  fireplace 
was  filled  with  chrysanthemums,  white  and  golden ; 
over  this  the  mantel  was  banked  with  roses ;  clusters  and 
wreaths  of  blossoms  and  greenery  knotted  the  window 


456  SQUARE  PEGS. 

draperies  and  fell  lightly  among  their  delicate  folds. 
In  the  kitchen  beyond,  transformed  for  the  service, 
all  the  evidences  of  coarser  occupation  were  hidden  be 
neath  and  behind  similar  screenings,  and  the  pretty 
table,  not  wanting  in  fine  old  furnishings,  stood  in  the 
midst,  with  the  wedding  cake  and  wine,  and  more  sub 
stantial  viands  for  those  who  had  come  the  longer  way, 
or  any  who  might  find  such  acceptable.  There  was  no 
pretense,  but  daintiness  and  dignity  —  the  dignity  that 
conies  of  unpretense  —  had  met  together.  Sweet  au 
tumn  airs  and  odors  and  fair,  bright  sunshine  stole  in 
everywhere,  and  wafted  through,  and  made  the  little 
place  like  the  heart  of  an  encircling  fragrance  and 
beauty,  as  is  the  heart  of  a  blossom  to  its  corolla. 

And  all  the  beautiful  world,  with  its  hope  and  pro 
mise,  reaching  out  from  this  dear,  quiet  centre,  was 
theirs  this  day. 

The  bridegroom  and  the  company  waited  in  the 
flower-garlanded  room.  The  Gladmother's  chair  stood 
in  the  western  window.  Over  it  hung  a  tassel  cluster 
of  her  prisms,  dropping  from  among  the  sprays  of  rose 
and  smilax,  held  by  a  loop  of  white  satin  ribbon. 
Through  these  the  first  westering  sunbeam  slanted,  and 
then  flung  across  the  corner  where  the  wedding  group 
would  stand  soft  streams  of  color  that  fell  among  the 
roses  on  the  mantel  and  burned  upward  from  them  in 
flame  of  red  and  gold,  plume-tipped  with  vivid  green 
and  heavenly  violet,  such  as  no  altar-light  could  radiate 
in  compare. 

There  were  steps  upon  the  stairway,  a  soft  rustle 
of  women's  gowns.  A  quiet-faced  old  lady  in  a  snowy 
cap  and  full,  soft  bosom-lace,  with  a  delicate  white 
shawl  over  her  black  silk  robing,  stood  in  the  entrance. 
Just  behind  her  was  a  glimpse  as  of  a  floating,  fleecy 
cloud. 

Mr.  Henslee,  standing  near,  moved  forward,  offering 
his  arm,  and  led  the  Gladmother  to  her  place  beside 


LADY  OF  HENSLEIGH.  457 

her  chair.  Harry  met  his  bride  upon  the  threshold, 
took  her  hand  in  his,  and  side  by  side  they  slowly 
walked  across  the  floor,  Estabel  and  Aunt  Esther  fol 
lowing  at  unobtrusive  distance,  and  ranging  themselves 
near,  but  not  in  evidence  as  with,  the  marriage  party. 
The  clergyman,  in  his  white  surplice,  stood  in  the  angle 
of  the  room  that  had  been  draped  across  with  some  soft 
hanging  of  deep  maroon,  flanked  either  way  with  tall 
chrysanthemum  plants,  making  it  like  a  tiny  chancel. 
Before  him,  on  a  long,  low  cushion,  the  bridal  pair 
knelt  for  a  moment,  then  rose  up,  and  the  service 
began. 

While  the  solemn,  beautiful  words  were  spoken,  all 
hearts  stirred,  yet  all  eyes  observed.  A  marriage  cere 
mony  is  a  heavenly  reality  in  such  external  type  as 
earth  can  make  most  heavenly.  A  woman  is  never 
nearer  apparent  angelhood  than  at  this  one  supreme 
moment  of  her  life.  And  I  suppose  if  one  saw  a  vision 
of  angels,  one  would  see,  desiring  to  know  what  angels 
look  like,  and  not  listen  only.  Saint  John  in  the 
Apocalypse  took  notice  of  the  white  robes  and  the 
wings. 

Never  was  bride  more  bridelike  than  sweet  Lilian 
Hawtree,  in  the  moment  when  she  was  ceasing  to  be 
Lilian  Hawtree  and  taking  her  foretokened  name  and 
place  as  "Lady  of  Hensleigh." 

She  had  found  some  shimmery,  sheeny  stuff  of  silken 
tissue ;  lacelike,  with  little  spots  of  satin  weft  delicately 
dropped  upon  it ;  it  was  like  gossamer  sprinkled  with 
dew.  Of  this  she  had  made  both  gown  and  veil;  not 
preposterously  long,  to  drag  reluctant  yards  behind  as 
if  protestant  against  some  half  intent,  or  absurdly  to 
fill  the  comparatively  small  spaces  of  Aunt  Esther's 
house.  The  folds  swept  lightly  off  a  little  way  and 
made  their  own  soft  circle  on  the  floor,  needing  no 
tirewoman's  last  touch  at  the  doorway  nor  a  maid  of 
honor's  cunning  adjustment  at  the  turning  round;  the 


458  SQUARE  PEGS. 

veil  fell  back  from  the  bright  hair  upon  which  it  rested, 
fastened  on  one  side  by  a  clustering  spray  of  starry 
jessamine,  and  on  the  other  with  a  diamond  pin,  the 
gift  of  the  elder  Mr.  Henslee,  and  reached  only  a  grace 
ful  length  as  veil,  and  not  as  robing.  Jessamine  flowers 
were  her  lovely  breastknot ;  she  carried  nothing  in  her 
hands.  There  was  nothing  to  relieve  her  of;  she  wore 
no  glove,  even,  to  be  taken  off.  A  sweet,  simple  girl, 
in  simple,  natural  array,  she  stood  there ;  all  herself, 
and  the  quiet  sincere  expression  of  herself,  and  not  a 
mysterious  something  hidden  in  a  heap  of  millinery.  It 
was  herself,  not  any  apparition  or  disguise  of  herself, 
that  she  was  going  to  give,  and  that  without  hesitation, 
or  hamper  of  useless  technicality.  There  was  nothing 
that  had  needed  the  mockery  of  a  "rehearsal." 

For  the  formal  bestowal,  there  was  the  stately  sweet 
old  Gladmother,  who  at  the  word  stepped  softly  to  her 
child,  and  laid  her  hand  in  Harry's;  then  the  measured 
tones  of  the  clergyman,  and  the  full  echo  of  Harry's 
voice,  and  the  clear  low  repetition  of  Lilian's  in  turn, 
went  on.  And  in  the  few  instants  in  which  the  most 
momentous  things  —  is  that  why  they  are  called  so  ?  — • 
do  oftenest  transpire,  it  was  all  done,  and  the  gentle 
village  pastor  blessed  them  with  upraised  hands,  in  the 
name  of  the  Father,  and  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost. 

There  was  no  orchestral  or  organ  march,  from  Men 
delssohn  or  Wagner ;  only  a  sweet  silence  for  a  moment, 
as  the  pair  turned  happy  solemnized  faces  to  each  other 
first  with  their  new  greeting,  and  then  to  the  nearest 
and  dearest  of  the  friendly  company.  Loving  embraces, 
a  gentle  buzz  of  congratulation  and  good  wishes,  and 
presently  relief  from  tender  strain  in  pleasant,  common 
talk. 

An  hour  later  nearly  all  were  gone.  Lilian,  with 
Estabel  to  help  her,  had  withdrawn  and  laid  aside  her 
dreamlike  bridal  draperies,  putting  on  instead  a  gown 
of  some  soft  woolen,  pale  olive-gray,  fastened  at  throat 


LADY  OF  HENSLEIGH.  459 

and  belt  with  golden  clasps ;  and  with  a  light  cloak  of 
corresponding  color  over  her  arm,  and  a  hat  with  olive 
ribbons  and  a  tuft  of  goldenrod  which  her  own  fingers 
had  fashioned,  hung  upon  her  wrist,  had  come  down 
again  to  say  a  short,  sweet  good-by  to  those  who  had 
the  last,  lingering  right;  and  had  simply  walked  with 
Harry  through  the  open  house  and  out  at  the  garden  door, 
whence  the  footpath  led  off  into  the  orchard  and  down 
the  brookside.  By  themselves  they  followed  the  still  fra 
grant  way  beneath  the  pines,  where  they  had  first  met, 
and  begun  to  love,  and  where  the  love  had  been  con 
fessed. 

And  it  was  in  the  golden  twilight  of  a  serenely  fad 
ing  day,  that  they  came  together  up  the  lawn  to  the 
open  entrance  and  the  waiting,  eager  welcome  and 
service  of  house  and  faithful  household  at  old  Henslee 
Place. 

Dr.  North  had  lingered  with  the  Gladmother.  She 
had  said,  "Don't  go,"  when  the  carriage  guests  were 
all  departing.  And  he  had  looked  at  his  watch  and 
seen  that  there  was  yet  half  an  hour  before  his  train, 
and  had  waited,  with  the  complaisance  that  in  him 
meant  a  very  sure  complacence. 

When  he  did  take  leave,  Aunt  Esther  and  Estabel 
went  out  with  him  upon  the  doorstone. 

Aunt  Esther  said  good-by,  and  then  as  with  some 
sudden  thought  betook  herself  inside  again.  Estabel 
found  herself,  she  hardly  knew  how,  walking  down  the 
little  pathway  under  the  elms  at  Ulick's  side.  He  had 
moved  forward  without  saying  the  final  good-by  that 
would  have  left  her  where  she  stood. 

"Hasn't  it  been  a  lovely  time?  "  she  asked  him.  It 
might  have  been  perfunctory,  by  way  of  saying  some 
thing;  but  her  face  was  all  abrim  with  tranquil  glad 
ness,  that  spoke  the  strong,  pervading  sense  out  of  which 
only  some  such  words  could  come. 


460  SQUARE  PEGS. 

He  looked  down  at  her,  reading  the  truth  of  her  de 
light  ;  and  his  own  feeling  of  the  joy  and  heauty  let 
itself  respond. 

"It  has  heen  a  wedding  —  not  a  parade,"  he  said. 
"It  has  been  as  such  things  should  be." 

They  were  at  the  gate,  but  he  still  paused,  with  his 
hand  upon  the  rail. 

"  And  so  they  are  going  off  in  the  Goldenrod  ?  "  he 
interrogated. 

"Yes.  It  is  to  be  an  ideal  voyage;  more  like  a 
yachting  than  a  merchant  trip,  though  they  are  to 
carry  cargo,  too,  of  course ;  there  will  be  a  stop  for 
landing  that  and  taking  on  another;  but  they  are  to 
cruise  a  little  besides;  back  through  the  West  Indies 
in  the  pleasant  weather  there,  and  so  on  home  into  our 
springtime.  It's  all  summer  with  them  now,"  she 
ended,  with  a  little  ring  in  her  voice  that  was  very 
joyous,  yet  with  the  touch  joy  has  of  feeling  close  to 
happy  tears. 

"Has  not  the  Gladmother  been  beautiful?  "  she  hur 
ried  to  say  further,  for  a  difference. 

"She  does  not  think  of  herself,"  said  Dr.  North. 

"  She  declares  she  does ;  and  that  is  why  she  wants 
it  all  just  so.  She  told  them  they  could  not  leave  her 
if  they  tried;  she  was  going,  too.  '  Why  shouldn't  I 
have  my  share  of  it  ?  Why  should  you  wait  till  I  am 
done  with  everything  —  or  till  it  seems  so  ?  '  For  she 
never  will  allow  that  anybody  is  ever  done  with  the 
least  bit  of  their  life.  'And  as  to  this  winter,  what 
winter  could  I  spare  you  better  from  just  the  speaking 
and  the  seeing?  I  shall  be  older  next  year,  and  the 
next;  the  longer  you  wait,  the  more  you  will  be  afraid. 
Go,  and  have  a  good  time,  for  me  to  enjoy  with  you. 
I  couldn't  get  it  any  other  way.'  That  was  how  she 
talked  to  them,  and  how  it  was  all  settled." 

"It  would' be  nice  if  there  were  enough  such  selfish 
ness  in  the  world  to  settle  everything  so, "  Dr.  North 


LADY  OF  HENSLEIGH.  461 

answered,  still  looking  into  the  uplifted  face,  not  heed 
ing  how  the  visor  was  down  from  before  his  own,  in 
which  a  strange,  unwonted  tenderness  was  shining. 

Estabel  took  it  all  to  mean  his  understanding  of  the 
beautiful  Gladmother.  It  was  so  good  to  see  him  quite 
understand  a  thing  like  that !  And  yet  there  was  some 
thing  that  made  her  still  hurry  on,  with  other  change 
of  word. 

"They  sail  on  the  nineteenth.  Won't  you  be  there 
to  see  them  off  —  with  us  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  will  be  there  —  with  you, "  said  Dr.  North; 
and  he  pushed  open  the  little  gate.  There  was  no  time, 
nor  fittingness,  for  more  speech  now.  He  said  good 
night  and  walked  away. 

Estabel  stood  still  under  the  trees. 

"He  is  growing  willing,  I  do  believe,  to  'behave  him 
self  '  with  me.  He  talks  to  me  as  he  would  to  anybody 
else !  " 

She  thought  it,  in  those  words,  in  that  way.  A 
great  bound  of  exultation  was  in  her  heart.  She  sup 
posed  she  was  blessedly  content  to  think  just  that. 


CHAPTER  LVIIL 

THE    SAILING    OF   THE    GOLDENROD. 

DOWN  at  L  wharf  the  carriages  of  gay  people  gath 
ered  again  and  stood  in  waiting. 

The  delicious  weather  had  lasted ;  the  hlue  of  the 
sky  melted  down  to  the  horizon  rim  where  the  far  water 
of  the  bay  made  its  deeper  line  against  it.  The  Golden- 
rod  had  been  hauled  around  the  pier,  from  within  the 
angle  of  the  L,  and  lay  beside  its  outer  inverted  arm. 
The  tide  had  just  turned,  and  was  sweeping  outward ; 
a  westerly  breeze  was  blowing.  Windlass  and  halyards 
were  manned ;  the  captain  stood  upon  the  af terdeck, 
alert,  supreme,  holding  his  watched-for  word  to  the 
precise  instant.  By  the  bulwark,  shoreward,  were  Lilian 
and  Harry,  and  Mr.  Henslee,  who  would  go  down  the 
harbor  with  them.  Above  them  floated  again  the  blue 
diamond,  the  union  jack,  the  barque's  bright  signal,  and 
the  stars  and  stripes. 

"  Heave  away !  "  And  the  men  at  the  capstan  bent 
to  their  bars ;  the  chain  rattled  through  the  hawse-hole ; 
the  anchor  was  hoisted  and  cat-headed.  Without  pause 
came  rapid  orders,  that  only  the  sailors  comprehended, 
but  to  which  the  winged  vessel  fluttered  out  all  her 
sudden  bravery  like  a  splendid  moth  unfolding  from  its 
chrysalis ;  the  white  sails  were  run  up  to  their  yards, 
with  a  "  chock  ablock  and  belay ;  "  they  swelled  out 
with  the  gentle  wind ;  the  great  H  in  the  foretopsail 
showed  grandly  clear  upon  the  smooth-stretched  sheet ; 
a  cheer  went  up  from  the  wharf ;  with,  and  above  all, 
—  rattling  and  hauling  and  call  and  cheer,  —  rang  the 


THE   SAILING  OF  THE  GOLDENROD.       463 

lusty  chorus  of  the  crew,  singing  as  they  answered  to 
command  with  tug  and  strain,  — 

"  Oh,  the  Goldenrod  is  taut  and  fine, 
The  dandy  ship  of  the  Diamond  Line." 

And  down  into  the  stream  she  swept,  the  two  young 
figures  standing  in  the  stern  for  lingering  exchange  of 
loving  watch  and  waving  sign ;  and  with  wind  and  tide 
and  well-set  canvas  she  moved  on,  swift  and  statelily,  in 
outset  of  her  fair,  bright  voyage,  —  toward  the  warm  gulf 
waters,  and  into  the  vigorous,  waiting  trades,  and  the 
splendid  tropics. 

And  then  the  little  admiring,  friendly  crowd  upon 
the  wharf  broke  up,  and  the  carriages  drove  away,  and 
Estabel  went  back  to  Casino  Crescent  with  Miss  Hens- 
lee. 

And  Dr.  North  had  not  been  there. 

A  whim  ?  Or  a  patient  ?  Dr.  North  was  liable  to 
both,  but  it  had  been  neither. 

He  had  come  back  from  a  second  round  of  visits;  the 
first  had  been  made  very  early,  before  his  morning  office 
hour,  to  urgent  cases;  the  last  had  just  left  him  time 
for  some  renewal  of  his  toilet  and  to  reach  L  wharf  a 
little  before  the  hour  of  sailing.  As  he  brushed  his  hat 
and  took  up  his  gloves,  the  bell  rang.  He  met  the 
comer  upon  his  doorstep,  his  intent  of  departure  evi 
dent,  to  say  nothing  of  a  slight  frown  of  interruption  that 
involuntarily  drew  his  brows  together. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  excuse  myself,  unless  "  —  then 
he  looked  the  visitor  full  in  the  face,  and  recognized 
him,  although  he  was  a  person  he  had  seldom  seen. 
"Oh,  Mr.  Steeples,  I  believe?  I  have  an  appointment; 
but  if  a  few  minutes  will  serve  you  —  please  walk  in. " 

Mr.  Steeples  came  in,  silent,  solemn. 

"A  few  minutes  will  serve,"  he  said,  when  the  door 
had  been  shut,  and  Dr.  North  had  motioned  him  to  a 


464  SQUARE  PEGS. 

chair.  "But  my  errand  will  involve  more  than  that 
later,  and  some  very  unexpected  consequences.  My  late 
partner  —  your  uncle  —  I  grieve  to  tell  you,  was  in  that 
terrible  railway  accident  in  the  south  of  France  three 
weeks  ago  which  we  read  of  a  few  days  since.  I  have 
letters  by  the  English  steamer  just  arrived,  from  our 
consul  at  Marseilles.  They  were  on  their  way  to  Pau 
for  the  winter.  I  suppose  you  know  they  passed  the 
summer  in  the  Tyrol,  after  their  travels  last  year  in 
Italy  and  the  East.  They  would  probably  have  come 
home  in  the  spring." 

Mr.  Steeples  had  prolonged  his  circumstantial  state 
ment,  to  give  Ulick  time.  Now  he  sat  silent  again,  but 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  yet  more  to  say. 

Dr.  North  was  severely  shocked  by  the  sudden  an 
nouncement.  Like  all  persons  of  carefully  guarded  feel 
ing,  the  thrust  against  which  he  braced  himself  ran  the 
deeper.  For  a  minute  or  two  he  was  silent  also,  and 
Mr.  Steeples  waited.  Then,  when  Ulick  did  not  speak, 
he  began  again. 

"It  is  a  great  blow  —  to  us  all,"  he  said. 

"Where  is  Mrs.  Clymer?"  Ulick  asked  him  calmly. 
He  felt  no  need  to  express  his  sense  of  personal  pain 
and  loss  to  this  man  of  business,  to  whom  Mr.  Clymer 
had  been  only  his  "late  partner." 

"Mrs.  Clymer  died  in  Marseilles  a  few  days  after," 
Mr.  Steeples  replied.  "She  had  been  ill  at  Nice;  and 
the  horrible  shock  —  and  some  bodily  injury  that  might 
not  otherwise  have  proved  fatal  —  well,  it  was  the  end ; 
they  're  both  gone  !  " 

Mr.  Steeples  emphasized  those  last  words.  They 
involved  the  later  and  very  weighty  practical  conse 
quences  to  which  he  had  transiently  adverted,  and  which 
he  left  to  suggest  themselves  at  leisure  to  Dr.  Ulick 
North,  in  their  natural  order;  as  in  legal  course  they 
would  certainly  with  brief  delay  be  set  before  him  in 
his  position  as  next  of  kin.  Whatever,  more  or  less,  he 


THE  SAILING  OF  THE  GOLDENROD.       465 

might  himself  know  of  the  particular  provisions  of  the 
peculiar  document  to  which  his  name  afterward  appeared 
appended  as  witness,  it  seemed  wiser  and  more  decorous 
to  hint  nothing  in  anticipation,  beyond  the  fact  which 
might  be  taken  for  granted. 

As  he  turned  with  his  foot  upon  the  sidewalk  for  that 
gesture  and  word  of  final  leavetaking  which  people  are 
apt  to  supplement,  he  said  briefly :  — 

"Undoubtedly  there  is  a  will.  Perhaps  two.  Mrs. 
Clymer,  I  believe,  had  something  of  her  own,  apart 
from  whatever  "  —  He  left  that  sentence  broken.  He 
could  not  baldly  speak  of  what  might  have  accrued  to 
her  right  in  those  few,  widowed,  dying  days.  "You 
will  probably  hear  from  his  lawyers,  Lylowe  and 
Spring.  Good-day. " 

Dr.  North  went  back  into  his  office  and  sat  down. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

INHERITANCE. 

'CHANGE  was  crowded.  Mr.  Henslee  could  not  walk 
up  the  street  without  encountering  the  news  from  a 
dozen  lips.  Topthorpe  was  stirred  in  its  business  cen 
tre.  Abel  Clymer  was  a  man  who  would  be  missed 
here ;  and  there  was  a  horror  in  the  violent,  sudden 
death,  which  men  were  hardly  yet  inured  to  putting 
aside  so  easily  as  they  seem  to  do  to-day.  People  were 
not  crushed  or  drowned  or  burned  up  quite  so  often, 
or  so  by  wholesale,  then. 

There  was  hardly  such  a  strenuous  hum  of  eager  talk 
as  ordinarily  along  the  curbstones ;  there  was  not  much 
lifting  of  sharp,  quick  tone,  or  breaking  forth  of  occa 
sional  laughter  at  shrewd  jokes.  A  hand  was  laid  upon 
the  strings. 

Mr.  Henslee  passed  on  and  across  to  his  home  in 
Casino  Crescent  with  a  slow  step  and  a  troubled  heart. 
He  was  thinking  of  the  little  girl  there,  fresh  from  her 
happy  participation  in  the  joy  of  the  setting  off,  that 
was  yet  tender  with  the  sense  of  parting,  and  of  that 
human  uncertainty  against  which  our  prayers  go  up  for 
those  who  leave  us  on  whatever  glad  and  hopeful  errand. 
He  had  noted  a  grave  little  curve  of  the  lip  that  told 
of  some  such  qualifying  of  keen  pleasure,  as  Estabel  had 
turned  away  from  the  deserted  pier  and  gone  back  to 
the  carriage  with  Miss  Lucy. 

He  would  tell  his  sister;  but  Estabel  should  not  be 
told  to-day.  One  of  her  homes  was  gone ;  one  of  only 
two  near  relatives  was  taken  from  her.  Whatever  of 


INHERITANCE.  467 

essential  sympathy  might  have  heen  sometimes  lacking 
between  her  Aunt  Vera  and  herself  —  however  uncon 
genial  in  certain  ways  a  home  with  her  might  have  been, 
—  she  would  feel  this  sadly ;  the  more  sadly,  he  knew, 
that  there  had  not  heen  that  perfect  love  which  not  only 
casteth  out  fear,  but  the  sharpest  pain  of  such  regret. 

No ;  she  should  not  be  told  to-day ;  she  should  not 
have  everything  to  bear  at  once. 

And  even  as  he  thought  so,  the  "consequences  "  and 
the  questions  of  them,  that  must  come,  occurred  to  him. 
She  must  soon  know,  and  she  must  soon  aet.  On  one 
side  and  the  other,  she  and  Ulick  North  represented 
all  that  in  common  course  of  affairs  would  result  from 
this  double  death. 

And  Abel  Clymer  had  died  first.  The  man  of  affairs 
discerned  in  a  single  mental  glance  how  things  might  be. 

He  was  not  surprised  when,  a  few  days  later,  after 
Estabel  had  calmed  and  been  comforted  from  her  first 
distress,  word  came  from  Messrs.  Lylowe  and  Spring 
of  the  necessity  for  attending  to  the  matters  of  the  es 
tate.  They  had  in  their  possession  the  will  of  the  late 
Abel  Clymer,  Esq.,  executed  before  his  departure  for 
Europe ;  the  parties  interested,  and  to  be  duly  served 
with  copies,  were  Ulysses  North,  physician,  of  Top- 
thorpe,  as  heir-at-law  and  under  the  will  of  said  Abel 
Clymer,  and  Estabel  Charlock,  next  of  kin  and  heir  to 
estate  of  Perseverance  Clymer,  wife  of  the  aforesaid. 
A  meeting  would  be  held  at  such  place  as  the  parties 
might  desire,  preliminary  to  the  offering  of  the  will  for 
probate. 

And  in  the  library  of  Mr.  Henslee  in  Casino  Cres 
cent,  in  the  presence  of  these  formal,  legal  men,  and 
with  only  the  kind  friend  and  host  to  feel  with  and  for 
them  the  overshadowing  solemnity  of  the  call  that 
brought  them  so  together,  Ulick  and  Estabel  met  for 
the  first  time  since  that  wedding  afternoon  when  they 


468  SQUARE  PEGS. 

had  stood  by  the  gate  under  the  great  elms  at  Stillwick, 
and  Ulick  had  said,  meaning  it  so  differently,  "Yes;  I 
will  he  there  —  with  you. " 

It  was  a  curious,  short  will  which  Mr.  Lylowe  read 
aloud  to  them. 

After  the  usual  preliminaries  it  ran  thus:  "I  leave 
to  my  dear  wife,  Perseverance  Clymer,  my  house  on 
Mount  Street,  Topthorpe,  with  all  household  furnish 
ings,  hooks,  pictures,  plate,  and  all  works  of  art  or 
ornament,  there  or  elsewhere.  And  of  all  other  estate 
of  which  I  may  die  possessed,  real,  personal  and  mixed, 
I  leave  to  the  said  Perseverance  Clymer,  my  wife,  one 
clear  and  undivided  half,  to  her  sole  use,  behoof,  and 
disposal. 

"And  I  leave  one  clear  and  undivided  half  of  all  my 
estate,  real,  personal,  and  mixed,  after  the  deduction 
of  the  house  in  Mount  Street,  the  furnishings,  books, 
pictures,  plate,  etc.,  as  aforesaid  and  bequeathed,  to 
my  nephew,  Ulysses  North,  out  of  which  estate  he  is 
to  pay,  first,  all  my  lawful  debts  and  obligations ;  sec 
ond,  all  moral  liabilities  which,  according  to  his  theories 
of  use  and  possession,  and  his  acute  sense  of  radical 
justice,  he  may  feel  that  I  have  overlooked  or  neglected, 
and  that  should  consequently  be  imposed  upon  the  same. 
I  lay  upon  the  said  Ulysses  North  the  whole  trust  and 
responsibility  and  discretionary  power  of  executing  this 
intent  and  charge.  And  any  residue  that,  after  the 
fulfillment  of  these  conditions,  may  remain  of  said  half 
of  my  estate  so  intrusted  to  the  said  Ulysses  North, 
shall  be  retained  by  him  for  his  own  sole  use  and  dis 
posal. 

"With  these  bequests,  I  leave  to  all  my  affectionate 
good- will  and  wishes." 

There  was  a  silence  in  the  room  when  the  lawyer 
ceased  his  reading.  Ulick  North's  lips  were  com 
pressed  ;  there  was  a  whiteness  about  them,  but  his 
eyes  were  clear  and  calm.  He  sat  absolutely  still. 


INHERITANCE.  469 

Estabel  glanced  from  one  to  another  with  a  fright 
ened,  half-comprehending  look. 

"  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  "  Her  question  broke  the 
pause  tremulously,  as  she  turned  to  Mr.  Henslee  in  dis 
tressed  appeal. 

Mr.  Lylowe  took  two  folded  papers  from  the  table 
beside  him,  and  arose.  Dr.  North  rose  also,  as  the 
lawyer  approached  him,  tendering  one. 

"  It  means,  for  my  part, "  he  said  distinctly,  "  that 
my  uncle  has  given  me  a  test  for  myself.  I  accept  the 
challenge  and  the  trust."  He  quietly  put  the  paper  into 
the  inside  pocket  of  his  coat,  and  remained  standing 
where  he  was,  as  though  only  waiting,  business  being 
ended,  to  take  proper  leave. 

"It  means,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  Mr.  Lylowe 
as  he  came  before  Estabel  and  held  to  her  the  second 
copy  of  the  document,  "that  through  your  aunt,  who 
survived  her  husband  by  several  days,  and  who  has  left 
no  will,  you  inherit  by  law  a  very  —  handsome  —  pro 
perty.  On  that  point  I  congratulate  you." 

"Oh,  don't!  "  cried  out  the  girl,  as  if  he  had  struck 
her  a  blow.  "I  don't  understand  it  yet,  but  it  can't 
be  right.  It  is  not  mine.  I  cannot  take  it.  It  ought 
all  to  go  to  Dr.  North,  except  the  little  property  that 
was  Aunt  Vera's  before." 

"I  don't  think  you  can  give  it  up,  my  dear,"  Mr. 
Henslee  said  to  her,  in  a  low,  soothing  tone.  "At  any 
rate,  it  is  of  no  use  to  say  so  now.  The  proper  forms 
must  be  gone  through;  then  we  will  talk  about  it." 

The  lawyer  had  to  lay  the  paper  in  her  lap ;  she  ex 
tended  no  hand  to  take  it.  Mr.  Henslee  lifted  it  up 
and  rose,  giving  his  arm  to  Estabel.  "You  have  had 
enough  to-day,  little  girl, "  he  said,  with  a  tender  light 
ness.  "We  will  go  to  Cousin  Lucy  now." 

Ulick  stood  before  them  as  they  reached  the  door. 

"It  is  precisely  as  my  uncle  meant  it  should  be.  It 
is  perfectly  clear  and  fair  —  and  unalterable. " 


470  SQUARE  PEGS. 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  Estabel.  She  put  hers 
within  it,  and  looked  up  at  him  with  a  helpless  remorse. 
His  face  was  as  quiet  as  his  words.  The  touch  of  his 
hand  was  kind,  not  warm. 

A  distance  had  stretched  out  again  between  these  two. 
Perhaps  it  had  been  meant  otherwise,  but  a  word  from 
the  grave  had  separated  them  again. 

"How  stern  he  is!  And  how  can  I  ever  make  him 
understand  me,  now?  "  was  in  Estabel' s  thought  as  she 
passed  up  the  stairs  out  of  his  sight. 

How  could  he  tell  Estabel  Charlock  now  that  he  loved 
her? 

That  question  smote  upon  Ulick  North  its  interdict 
as  he  left  the  house. 

The  lawyer  gathered  up  his  papers.  Mr.  Henslee 
came  down  to  offer  courteous  leave-taking. 

"There  might  be  one  very  pretty  way  of  making  all 
this  straight,"  said  Mr.  Lylowe,  as  he  buttoned  up  his 
coat  in  the  hall. 

"If  that  pretty  way  were  ever  open,  I  'm  afraid  it 
is  closed  now, "  Mr.  Henslee  answered. 

Mr.  Lylowe  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  suppose  one 
can  guess,  but  I  can't  see  clearly  what  it 's  all  about. 
Will  North  get  anything,  or  nothing,  in  the  winding 
up?" 

"That  will  depend  upon  his  understanding  of  the 
conditions,  and  their  limit, "  replied  Mr.  Henslee. 

"He  strikes  me  as  a  fellow  who  will  take  the  stiffest 
possible  way  of  meeting  things." 

"And  perhaps  the  hardest  for  himself.  There  are 
such  men  in  the  world, "  rejoined  the  merchant ;  and 
the  man  of  formula  and  tape  departed. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

COMFORT    AND    COUNSEL. 

IT  was  as  if  an  avalanche  had  fallen  into  Estabel 
Charlock's  quiet  life.  The  face  of  everything  was 
changed.  She  stood  as  in  the  middle  of  an  overthrow, 
not  knowing  how  to  extricate  herself,  or  how  to  recon 
cile  and  adapt  herself  to  new  conditions.  What  had 
not  been  destroyed  was  jarred,  shaken.  She  felt  as  if 
she  could  hold  fast  to  nothing  —  nothing,  that  is,  to 
which  any  new  tendrils  of  her  growth  and  being  were 
reaching  out ;  nothing  that  had  to  do  with  plan  and 
purpose. 

And  it  had  all  begun  with  such  a  tragedy !  A  sorrowful 
thing,  upon  which  other  things  so  pressed  and  hurried 
that  they  would  not  give  her  time  and  place  fitly  to 
think  of  it  and  be  sorry. 

Her  Aunt  Vera  had  written  her  not  very  infre 
quently,  but  when  the  letters  came  they  had  been  full 
of  place  and  circumstance  and  little  detail,  in  name  and 
on  the  surface ;  transitions  hither  and  thither ;  practical 
accommodation  or  inconvenience ;  general  phrases  of  de 
scription  ;  —  not  much  dwelt  on  minutely  except  person 
alities  and  the  ever-growing  catalogue  of  wonderful  pur 
chases,  the  opportunity  and  way  of  them ;  garments ; 
household  stuffs ;  curios,  eagerly  commented  upon  for 
their  genuineness  and  rarity;  such  as  "hardly  anybody 
else,  in  our  country,  at  least,  could  boast  of  having  and 
would  be  invaluably  attractive  to  the  most  superior  class 
of  persons ;  "  pictures,  after  the  same  order  and  ap 
praisal;  jewels —  "Uncle  Abel  had  been  so  generous  to 


472  SQUARE  PEGS. 

her;  he  had  wanted  to  buy  almost  everything;  they 
should  come  home  laden  with  precious  things,  and  a 
great  many  boxes  and  cases  were  already  on  their  way, 
consigned  to  their  home  agents."  All  this  had  op 
pressed  Estabel  in  the  mere  recital.  Now  the  whole 
burden  of  possession  and  administration  was  falling 
upon  her  heart  and  hands. 

And  Aunt  Vera  —  who  had  been  so  kind,  so  loving 
in  her  way,  so  generous  with  bestowal  of  all  that  she 
accounted  benefit  —  had  gone  away  from  all  with  empty 
hands,  into  —  would  it  be  to  her  light  or  darkness  ? 

The  last  news  had  been  from  the  Tyrol.  They  had 
traveled  through  Russia  in  the  early  summer.  Mrs. 
Clymer  was  not  only  bringing  home  curios  and  splen 
dors,  but  a  record  of  accomplishment  of  unusual  routes 
• —  Nishni-Novgorod,  the  Great  Fair  —  oh,  the  magnifi 
cent  Siberian  sables,  and  the  exquisite  malachites  and 
aquamarines  that  Mr.  Clymer  had  bought  for  her  there ! 
—  Moscow,  St.  Petersburg,  Cronstadt,  Lubec,  Berlin, 
Vienna  —  rapid  journeying  and  short  stops ;  and  now 
a  few  weeks  among  these  deep  valleys  and  these  tre 
mendous  mountains,  and  these  queer  people.  Then  by 
Trieste  and  Genoa  to  Marseilles,  and  through  the  south 
of  France  toward  the  Pyrenees. 

That  was  the  plan  marked  out,  and  followed  almost 
to  the  end;  and  here,  in  such  safe  and  common  way 
faring,  —  after  the  Nile,  and  the  desert,  the  camels,  the 
Persian  caravans,  the  tideless,  stormy  Caspian,  the 
Volga  River,  the  Baltic  Sea,  the  Alpine  passes,  —  on 
the  quiet  Mediterranean  shore,  within  easy  hail,  they 
felt,  of  home,  the  end  had  come  indeed;  their  journey 
on  was  in  the  spirit,  in  the  land  whence  no  one  comes 
to  tell  the  way  that  he  has  been ;  and  the  things  of 
earth  that  they  had  gathered  remained  for  other  hands 
to  receive  wonderingly,  perplexedly,  and  to  do  with  as 
might  seem  possible  or  good. 

One  little  pair  of  unaccustomed,  reluctant  hands. 


COMFORT  AND  COUNSEL.  473 

"It  is  too  much,"  Estabel  said.  "It  frightens 
me.  Oh,  how  could  Aunt  Vera  want  it  all?  And 
what  did  she  mean  to  do  with  it  ?  "  And  then  her 
thought  would  turn  back  with  its  reproach  upon  herself. 
"If  I  could  only  have  pleased  her  better!  "  she  would 
say. 

"You  can  please  her  now,"  said  the  Gladmother. 

"If  I  didn't  know  how  then,  how  can  I  know  how 
now  ?  "  Estabel  asked,  with  pathetic  simplicity  of 
words.  "The  things  that  seemed  to  please  her  —  I 
mean  what  she  wished  for  me  "  —  and  here  her  voice 
broke,  and  she  stopped. 

"You  forget  the  difference,  my  dear.  She  isn't  in 
the  thing-world  now;  she's  in  the  heart  of  things. 
And  it's  in  the  heart  —  where  you  do  understand  her 
when  you  say  she  wished  the  things  for  you  —  that  you 
can  go  straight  to  the  real  best  of  her,  and  of  it  all. 
It  's  only  the  best  and  the  right  that  lives  on.  She  's 
got  the  new  sight  now,  and  she  sees  different  from  what 
she  did  —  in  some  ways.  We  all  shall.  But  the  love 
is  always  there.  We  don't  realize  how  much  we  may 
do,  to  finish  up  for,  and  to  help  on,  those  that  have 
left  the  place  in  things  to  us,  and  gone  up  into  the 
meanings." 

"Oh,  you  dear  Gladmother!  " 

Estabel  was  comforted,  and  took  courage. 

With  Mr.  Henslee  she  had  other  talks.  He  was  her 
strongest  friend  and  adviser,  besides  being  one  of  the 
executors  of  Mr.  Clymer's  will. 

"You  will  have  to  help  me  find  out  what  to  do  with 
it,"  she  said.  "The  most  of  it  is  Remnant." 

"  Is  what  ?  "  Mr.  Henslee  lifted  his  eyebrows,  and 
his  eyeglasses  jumped  off  his  nose. 

Estabel  laughed.  "That  which  is  left  over,  after 
a  person  has  got  enough.  Don't  you  remember  —  or 
didn't  you  hear?  We  came  to  that  definition  once, 


474  SQUARE  PEGS. 

and  I  haven't  forgotten  it.  I  think  things  are  planted 
in  people's  minds  for  what  they  are  to  grow  to  by  and 
by.  Don't  you?"  The  slight  laugh  quivered  away 
on  her  lip.  This  was  not  a  glad  business  to  her  yet, 
if  it  could  ever  be. 

Mr.  Henslee  did  not  answer  that  last  little  question, 
but  spoke  to  the  former  purpose.  He  began  to  see  that 
he  had  a  mind  to  deal  with  in  which  certainly  things 
had  been  planted  that  began  to  show.  Whether  they 
should  all  be  let  flourish  to  the  full,  or  might  need  to 
be  thinned  out,  he  was  not  quite  sure. 

"  The  responsibility  is  not  yours,  immediately, "  he 
told  her.  "Things  have  got  to  be  put  together,  into 
shape,  and  taken  care  of,  before  you  will  know  just 
where  you  are.  And  for  another  thing,  you  are  not 
of  age.  There  will  have  to  be  a  guardian." 

"Oh,  dear  Mr.  Henslee,  I  am  so  glad!  I  never 
thought  of  that.  You  will  be  my  guardian,  won't 
you  ?  You  will  help  me  think  —  and  help  me  do. 
For  I  can  certainly  make  plans,  and  I  know  you  will 
not  hinder  them.  Please  don't  let  us  keep  anything 
waiting  that  can't  wait.  It  will  be  almost  two  years." 

"And  in  those  two  years  much  may  happen  that  we 
must  allow  for." 

"Yes.  I  might  die.  So  we  must  work.  Can't  I 
make  a  will  ?  " 

"Not  yet  —  legally." 

"Law  is  very  hard,"  said  Estabel  thoughtfully.  "It 
makes  things  wrong  that  are  really  right,  and  "  —  Miss 
Charlock's  funny  non-reversals  occurred  to  her,  and  she 
ended  with  another  little  laugh  —  "  things  that  are 
really  right  it  makes  out  to  be  wrong." 

Mr.  Henslee  put  on  his  eyeglasses  again  and  regarded 
her  with  an  incomprehension  that  was  all  but  anxious. 
Had  this  strain  of  feeling  and  thinking  been  too  much 
for  her? 

"That    is    only  Aunt   Esther,"    she   explained,    still 


COMFORT  AND  COUNSEL.  475 

playfully.  "She  always  says  a  thing  right  over  again, 
end  for  end.  I  think  it  is  a  pretty  emphatic  way." 

"There  are  other  things  that  may  happen  besides 
dying.  You  may  have  others  to  think  of.  You  may 
marry.  Then  your  husband  would  have  rights,  and 
would  be  your  guardian." 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  shall,"  she  said  gravely.  "I 
want  you  for  my  guardian  now.  And  I  shall  make 
a  will,  and  as  soon  as  I  am  of  age  I  shall  execute  it 
myself." 

"I  am  glad  that  you  will  have  these  two  years. 
You  will  learn  that  wills  are  apt  to  need  a  good  many 
codicils, "  was  wisely  all  that  Mr.  Henslee  replied. 

"There  is  one  thing  quite  clear  beforehand,"  the  girl 
said.  "This  cannot  all  —  this  whole  half  of  Uncle 
Clymer's  money  —  belong  to  me.  It  was  a  great  mis 
take  in  the  will.  If  it  had  been  even  half,  after  those 
things  were  paid  that  are  to  be  taken  out  of  Dr.  North's 
share,  it  would  still  have  been  too  much.  He  ought  to 
have  two  thirds,  by  real  right.  And  somehow  you  must 
have  it  managed  so.  It  must  be  kept  separate  until  he 
can  be  made  to  take  it.  I  don't  know  how,  or  when; 
I  must  leave  that  to  you.  You  must  get  round  it  for 
me." 

"Dr.  North  is  a  very  hard  person  to  get  round," 
said  Mr.  Henslee.  "And  I  'm  afraid  there  isn't  any 
thing  in  the  Revised  Statutes  to  help  us  —  at  present." 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

EXECUTORSHIP. 

MB.  HENSLEE  had  rather  a  hard  time  between  these 
heirs-at-law  and  the  conditions  of  the  will.  He  had  to 
talk  to  Dr.  North  very  much  as  he  had  done  to  Estabel. 

"You  must  not  he  Quixotic  about  this  thing,"  he 
said.  "The  literal  debts  are  a  mere  nothing.  Mr. 
Clymer  paid  as  he  went.  And  the  sort  of  payment 
that  you  seem  resolved  to  undertake  is  a  simple  chimera. 
It  was  an  odd  humor  of  his  —  a  retort  that  could  not 
be  retorted  on  —  that  was  all  he  meant.  If  it  makes 
you  the  more  conscientious  in  your  use  of  your  super 
fluity,  well  enough;  it  is  what  we  all  ought  to  be.  But 
to  try  and  track  out  omissions  —  possible  shortcomings 
in  the  stricter  duty  —  of  an  ended  life,  of  whose  par 
ticulars  you  can  know  so  little  —  it  seems  to  me  both 
futile  and  absurd." 

"I  shall  find  out.  Not  everything,  probably,  but 
all  I  can;  and  I  don't  doubt  I  shall  find  enough.  To 
begin  with,  there  are  all  those  mechanics  who  lost  their 
honest  pay  through  Brace  and  Buckle.  And  there  may 
be  people  among  those  whom  my  uncle  employed  — 
whose  labor  helped  to  build  up  and  carry  out  the  enter 
prises  that  made  him  rich  —  who  have  had  but  their 
meagre  labor  pay  out  of  the  results,  and  who  ought  to 
share  in  the  success ;  and  some,  very  likely  —  honest, 
struggling  men  —  who  were  his  debtors  when  he  died, 
for  borrowed  money  that  the  estate  can  better  lose  than 
they  can  on  a  stringent  summons  pay ;  to  say  nothing 
of  high  interests  that  books  may  show,  or  loans  that 


EXECUTORSHIP.  477 

have  been  redeemed  but  have  left  the  borrowers  poor; 
to  say  nothing,  further  yet,  of  opportunities  that  may 
be  guessed  and  traced,  that  might  have  kept  the  surplus 
down.  I  told  him,  Mr.  Henslee,  that  if  a  man  did  the 
right  thing  all  along,  there  wouldn't  be  much  danger 
of  superfluous  accumulation.  It  was  this,  and  no  joke, 
that  he  meant.  And  I  meant  what  I  said." 

Mr.  Henslee's  face  changed  as  he  listened.  When 
Ulick  spoke  of  the  mechanics,  and  of  Brace  and  Buckle, 
he  smiled  a  little  curiously ;  as  the  doctor  went  on  with 
his  suppositions  and  made  manifest  his  thorough  intent, 
he  looked  at  him  with  a  sincere,  honoring,  though  still 
qualified,  sympathy.  For  here,  truly,  was  a  man  of 
glorious  sincerity,  yet  all  the  more  to  be  looked  out 
for,  and  hindered  from  extreme  enthusiasm  of  sacrifice. 

"Certainly,"  he  said,  "one  duty  of  your  uncle's  was 
to  yourself.  You  need  not  ignore  that.  You  must  at 
least  reserve  a  reasonable  provision,  such  as  you  would 
have  made  in  his  place.  You  may  have  those  to  whom 
you,  in  turn,  will  owe  it  as  a  duty.  You  may  marry." 

And  at  this  same  point  to  which  he  had  carried  the 
argument  with  Estabel,  Dr.  North  replied  in  effect 
precisely  as  she  had  done. 

"I  'm  not  a  marrying  man,"  he  answered  shortly. 

Then  Mr.  Henslee  even  ventured  further.  "I  don't 
know  what  to  do  with  you  two, "  he  declared,  with  a 
recourse  to  lightness.  "Estabel  Charlock  is  bent  on 
very  similar  dispositions.  And  she  regards  you  as  her 
chief  creditor.  She  thinks  she  comes  unfairly  by  what 
ought  in  far  larger  proportion  to  have  been  yours. 
Marriage  might  settle  this  whole  matter, "  he  said  out- 
rightly,  as  he  would  not  have  done  if  he  had  had  less 
in  his  thought  than  the  best  good  of  these  two  odd 
young  persons  who,  he  began  to  surmise,  were  shy  in 
all  things  of  the  best  good  to  themselves. 

"Marriage  can  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the 
question, "  Dr.  North  replied,  with  the  calmest  decision. 


478  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Estabel  demanded  to  see  Dr.  North.  Mr.  Henslee 
had  only  told  her  that  he  was  impracticable;  that  he 
would  have  nothing  more,  and  that  he  probably  would 
not  keep  what  he  had,  any  longer  than  to  fling  it  away  as 
fast  as  he  could  find  any  pretext.  "I  must  say,  how 
ever,  "  he  added,  "  that  his  search  for  pretexts  is  a  noble 
one,  although  most  people  would  think  it  as  fantastic 
as  the  search  for  the  Holy  Grail." 

"  If  they  would  think  that  fantastic !  "  returned  Es 
tabel.  "Hasn't  everybody  a  Holy  Grail  to  find?  " 

She  was  staying  again  now  in  Casino  Crescent.  She 
had  been  home,  for  she  felt  her  place  was  with  the 
Gladmother  as  far  as  possible,  while  Lilian  was  away. 
The  young  Mrs.  Henslee  had  left  loving  charge  with 
her,  and  had  said  to  Dr.  North,  "You,  too,  will  watch 
her  kindly,  won't  you?  " 

It  was  curious  how  the  very  different  sorts  of  trust 
were  forcing  Estabel  and  Ulick  together.  And  yet 
both  —  the  one  because  she  would  not  let  him  feel  forced 
toward  her,  and  the  other  because  neither  feeling  nor 
relentless  scruple  would  permit  him  to  be  drawn  —  were 
holding  themselves,  as  to  any  voluntary  movement  or 
sign,  apart. 

Purely  on  business,  Estabel  sent  Dr.  North  a  message 
that  if  he  could  find  it  convenient  she  must  see  him. 
So  he  came,  as  he  did  everything  that  must  of  right  be 
done,  to  the  Crescent. 

"All  this  appraisal  is  to  be  gone  through,"  she  told 
him.  "And  if  you  will  not  allow  that  any  of  these 
things  ought  to  be  yours  in  a  fair  division,  you  may 
like  to  choose  some  at  the  valuation." 

She  might  have  been  a  mere  business  agent,  instead 
of  the  young  woman  in  whose  hands  the  burdensome 
accumulation  had  been  left,  which,  from  every  sense  of 
abstract  justice  and  of  personal  wish,  she  would  have 
shared,  or  given  entirely  up,  to  this  intractable  young 
man. 


EXECUTORSHIP.  479 

"What  use  should  I  have  for  such  things?"  he  re 
plied.  "They  would  not  help  me  to  discharge  my 
trust. " 

"Why  not?" 

He  looked  at  her  with  surprise. 

"I  have  been  thinking  it  out,  as  well  as  I  can,"  she 
said.  "I  have  very  much  the  same  questions  to  settle 
that  you  have.  And  I  think  that  among  the  things  we 
owe  is  all  the  pleasure  we  can  spare  out  of  what  we 
are  able  to  get  and  understand  for  ourselves.  Beautiful 
tilings  are  not  all  vanities.  They  are  meant  to  be  en 
joyed.  Look  at  the  Gladmother  with  her  prisms. 
Why  can't  we  scatter  these  things  where  they  would 
give  so  much  separate  delight  to  ever  so  many  persons, 
when  all  in  a  mass  they  lose  their  beauty,  and  are  only  a 
care  to  a  single  one  ?  " 

Every  word  she  said  showed  her  to  him  more  and 
more  the  woman  he  could  honor,  the  woman  who  for 
so  long  he  had  believed  could  not  exist.  And  yet,  so 
long  as  she  was  this  rich  woman,  with  all  his  uncle's 
wealth,  that  she  might  think  —  that  everybody  might 
think  —  he  grudged  and  coveted  underneath  his  impas 
sive  concurrence  in  its  legitimate  and  incontrovertible 
disposition  —  he  must  hold  his  peace. 

Doing  that,  he  held  himself  so  erect,  as  people  say, 
as  to  bend  backward.  "I  have  simply  nothing  to  do 
with  it, "  he  declared ;  "  and  I  do  not  see  how  I  can 
advise  you." 

Then  she  was  hurt. 

"Dr.  North,"  she  said,  "I  feel  that  you  have  every 
thing  to  do  with  it.  And  it  is  not  fair  that  you  should 
refuse  to  look  at  it  with  me.  You  know  that  in  the 
natural  order  of  things,  the  greater  part  of  all  would 
have  come  to  you." 

"The  natural  order  of  things  has  happened.  I  have 
my  share,  and  it  is  all,  heaven  knows,  that  I  want  to 
be  responsible  for." 


480  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"I  am  glad  that  even  so  much  of  it  is  in  your  hands. 
But  I  am  not  glad  of  the  restrictions.  They  make  it 
most  unfair.  It  ought  to  be  made  right  between  our 
selves.  I  have  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  so  once  more." 

"It  cannot  be  made  otherwise  than  it  is.  It  is  in 
nobody's  power  to  change.  And  it  makes  no  personal 
difference.  It  leaves  me  where  it  found  me,  which  is 
precisely  what  it  was  meant  to  do.  I  have  been  given 
a  commission  only,  and  I  mean  of  course  to  carry  it 
out.  If  the  money  was  twice  as  much  it  would  be  just 
the  same.  I  suppose  you  remember  your  own  definition 
of  the  '  remnants. '  Uncle  Abel  has  simply  taken  me 
at  my  word.  I  agreed  with  you,  and  he  knew  it.  He 
has  left  me  his  remnant,  and  bequeathed  what  he  re 
garded  as  his  sufficiency  elsewhere.  And  it  has  come 
to  you." 

"Dr.  North,  you  are  absurd.  A  man's  responsi 
bility  can't  be  detached  and  imposed  in  that  way.  It 
runs  through  the  whole.  I  certainly  inherit  my  half 
of  it.  And  why  should  you  resist  my  conscience,  any 
more  than  your  own?  Mayn't  I  do  as  I  please  with 
what  you  say  is  mine  ?  " 

"Not  in  all  respects.  You -will  find  restrictions  — 
obstacles.  You  are  an  heiress,  and  you  cannot  help 
it." 

"  I  am  only  an  executor  —  a  trustee,  with  a  large 
remnant  —  as  you  are.  Or  I  ivill  be.  I  have  told  Mr. 
Henslee  what  I  shall  do.  I  shall  make  a  will,  and 
execute  it  myself,  as  soon  as  I  am  out  of  guardianship. 
I  think  that  is  the  proper  way  to  carry  out  a  will. 
And  people  can't  refuse,  you  say,  what  is  bequeathed 
to  them.  If  they  try  to,  it  must  just  lie  idle,  or  be 
growing  to  more." 

Dr.  North  could  not  help  laughing. 

"That  will  not  trouble  me  much.  It  is  not  likely 
to  concern  me,  whatever  you  do.  I  am  eleven  years 
older  than  you." 


EXECUTORSHIP.  481 

"This  is  silly.  As  if  eleven  years  meant  anything, 
knowing  what  we  know  now  about  life  and  death!  Dr. 
North,  why  won't  you  help  me?  Why  can't  we  do  this 
right  thing  together  ?  " 

Was  ever  man  so  bestead  ?  And  yet  in  all  this  there 
was  a  gleam  of  light.  He  did  not  know  how  near  the 
day  was  to  breaking.  He  thought  it  still  his  sworn 
duty  to  shut  his  eyes  and  turn  them  from  the  dawn. 

He  recurred  to  his  old  argument  —  his  stern  reitera 
tion. 

"It  is  what  he  meant.  He  supposed,  of  course,  that 
it  would  be  a  long  time  before  it  could  affect  you; 
never,  except  through  the  will  of  your  aunt,  who  would 
still  have  the  moulding  of  you;  and  subject  to  all  the 
further  possibilities  of  your  own  life.  What  he  meant 
by  me  was,  to  try  me  by  my  own  law.  He  was  a  keen 
man.  He  did  not  care  so  much  about  the  money.  But 
he  meant  to  take  me  down,  in  my  own  eyes ;  to  make 
me  see  that  I  was  no  better  than  the  rest  of  the  world. 
I  don't  doubt  he  wished  to  make  me  comfortable  —  if 
I  could  be  so,  that  way;  but  he  would  get  the  best  of 
the  argument,  first,  when  there  should  be  no  answering 
back.  He  would  say,  '  I  told  you  so  '  out  of  every 
dollar  all  the  rest  of  my  life.  But  that  he  cannot  do. 
I  shall  find  the  debts ;  I  shall  pay  everything.  Some 
time  —  if  things  are  so  —  I  shall  deliver  up  my  ac 
count.  And  —  if  things  are  so" —  he  repeated,  "I 
shall  simply  have  done  the  will  of  the  dead  —  alive." 

"You  mean  the  will  that  is  afterward?  what  he 
would  be  wishing  now  ?  " 

"If  afterward  is  now.  We  don't  know  that.  But 
we  must  act  as  if  it  were." 

"I  think  that  is  grander,  Dr.  North,  than  if  you 
knew,  or  believed  absolutely." 

She  said  "you,"  not  "we."      He  noted  it. 

"  There  is  nothing  grand  at  all  in  doing  the  thing  that 
has  to  be  done, "  he  answei'ed,  with  his  utmost  coldness. 


482  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"You  forget  one  thing,"  Estabel  said,  after  a  pause 
in  which  her  tone  and  manner  again  adjusted  them 
selves  to  his.  "I  represent  Aunt  Vera." 

"  Yes ;  in  a  clear,  undivided  half  of  the  estate,  free 
of  all  conditions." 

"Except  its  duties.  We  agreed  once  ahout  what 
a  wife's  concern  would  be  in  such  a  case.  If  those 
duties  were  not  provided  for,  they  are  left  to  me,  as 
they  would  have  been  to  her.  And  do  you  think  Aunt 
Vera  would  not  have  known  that  her  first  duty  would 
be  to  make  good  to  you  ?  " 

"That  is  a  duty  which  you  cannot  possibly  inherit. 
Or  that,  at  any  rate,  you  cannot  do." 

He  was  in  full  armor  now,  breastplate  and  helmet ; 
heart  and  head  in  defense  of  iron  mail. 

"You  make  things  very  hard  for  me." 

"No.  I  will  make  them  easy,  in  any  other  way,  if 
I  can.  But  for  this  —  I  will  have  nothing  from  you." 

How  could  she  know  that  his  hardness  was  all  against 
himself  ? 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

APPRAISALS. 

THERE  was  no  reason  for  delay  in  settling  the  estate. 
Certainly  the  two  years  allowed  by  law  need  not  be 
taken.  All  possible  demands  were  referable  to  Dr. 
North's  share.  Practically,  he  was  in  so  far  executor, 
and  had  simply  to  be  put  in  possession  of  his  trust. 
Mr.  Clymer's  investments  were  in  such  shape  that  a 
clear  division  of  the  personal  property  was  easily  possi 
ble.  As  regarded  the  business,  both  Mr.  Clymer  and 
his  partner  had  become  very  wealthy  men ;  and  although 
neither  of  the  heirs  would  find  it  desirable  to  retain 
a  money  interest  in  the  house,  Mr.  Steeples  had  not 
only  his  own  large  capital,  but  would  be  at  no  loss  to 
secure  a  new  partnership  or  company  that  would  bring 
in  all  that  might  be  expedient  for  continuance  or  exten 
sion.  ''Clymer  and  Steeples"  could  put  out  a  hand 
where  it  chose,  and  find  eager  response. 

So  as  the  winter  wore  on,  things  simplified  in  just 
the  degree  that  depended  upon  putting  control,  as  fast 
as  required,  into  the  hands  that  had  final  claim.  Books 
were  gone  over ;  Dr.  North  made  the  most  scrupulously 
careful  memoranda,  as  to  all  transactions  in  loan  and 
mortgage.  If  anybody  had  suffered  —  not  wrongfully ; 
that  was  not  the  supposition  upon  which  he  acted,  for 
Clymer  and  Steeples  had  been  an  honorable  firm,  and 
everything  was  done  in  business  fairness ;  but  if  any 
body  had  been  hard  pushed  by  circumstance,  and  left  in 
a  hard  place,  he  meant  to  know.  He  followed  up  busi 
ness  and  personal  histories ;  more  than  one  man  who 


484  SQUARE  PEGS. 

had  succumbed  to  unfortunate  pressure  in  some  crisis, 
and  had  never  got  his  sure  footing  afterward,  was  sur 
prised  by  the  offer  of  fresh  loan  on  almost  nominal 
terms ;  and  more  than  one  family,  left  poor  in  widow 
hood  and  'fatherlessness,  received  a  substantial  sum 
"recovered  by  better  turn  of  an  investment  "  made  for 
them  years  ago,  or  from  the  "closing  sale  of  a  pro 
perty  "  of  which  the  mortgage  had  been  purchased  by 
Clymer  and  Steeples,  and  which  had  now  "realized  a 
large  advance  in  value." 

These  general  statements  must  indicate  and  cover 
such  account  as  can  be  given  of  Ulick  North's  proceed 
ings  ;  our  story  cannot  follow  into  precise  detail. 

Meanwhile,  Estabel  had  more  minutely  wearisome 
personal  cares  to  discharge.  The  consignments  from 
abroad  kept  arriving;  it  was  necessary  to  do  something 
with  them.  By  advice  of  her  elders,  she  opened  the 
house  in  Mount  Street,  and  established  herself  there 
temporarily,  at  least.  Aunt  Esther  and  the  Gladmo- 
ther  came  up  from  Stillwick  to  be  with  her.  The  shop 
was  left  with  the  jubilant  Miss  Eliza  Gillespy ;  and  a 
young  girl  —  one  of  the  Speering  family,  whom  Lilian 
had  kindly  instructed  in  flower-making,  and  helped  to 
develop  a  "natural  knack,"  as  her  mother  proudly 
called  it,  with  ribbons  and  trimmings  —  was  regularly 
to  assist  her.  Miss  Charlock  herself,  with  all  the  re 
source  and  convenience  of  Topthorpe  shops,  made  bon 
nets  and  caps  in  her  pleasant,  large  upper  chamber,  and 
sent  them  down  to  Stillwick  by  Simon  Peter  Babson. 

Mrs.  Trubin  had  the  corresponding  room  on  the  floor 
below,  that  was  yet  high  enough  to  look  over  the  in 
cline  of  roofs  down  the  steep  hill,  and  take  in  the 
broad,  shiny  expanse  of  the  Shawme  at  its  broadest  and 
sunniest,  and  the  country  margin  beyond,  white  and 
glittering  now,  for  the  most  part,  with  ice  and  snow, 
but  with  wooded  outlines  and  fair  slopes  that  promised 
and  suggested  all  the  beautiful  summer  green. 


APPRAISALS.  485 

As  things  do  happen  in  this  world,  so  often  maligned 
for  its  contrarieties  and  so  little  credited  with  its  happy 
coincidences,  Archibald,  of  olden  elegant  service  and 
willing  loyalty,  had  appeared  one  day  in  Casino  Cres 
cent,  having  heard  that  Miss  Estabel  had  "come  in  for 
the  house  and  a  lot  of  money, "  and  that  she  was  to 
take  up  her  abode  at  the  Mount  Street  home  again, 
and  announced  that  as  she  would  obviously  and  dis 
tinctly  need  people  to  help  her  that  knew  how,  he  would 
be  glad  to  come  for  as  long  as  she  wished,  by  the  day ; 
his  wife  could  run  the  restyouraunt ;  he  need  only  look 
over  the  accounts.  And  moreover,  his  wife  had  heard 
from  Sara  Sullivant  that  Uncle  Zimri  was  done  with 
her,  and  "  all  below, "  and  she  would  like  to  come  back 
to  Topthorpe  if  she  could  hear  of  a  chance.  And  so  it 
came  to  pass  that  Archibald  and  Sara  were  again  domes 
ticated  at  Number  84,  where  they  "knew  every  stick 
and  chip, "  and  had  helped  pack  everything  away. 

Sara  Sullivant  had  arrived  with  not  only  the  big 
trunk  —  big  trunks  having  become  a  hallmark  of  travel 
ing  distinction  at  that  time  —  which  she  had  when  she 
went  away ;  but  also  with  a  long,  heavy  redwood  chest, 
secured  with  two  great  hasps  and  padlocks,  which  Uncle 
Zimri  had  himself  constructed  on  some  South  Sea  voy 
age  when  he  had  been  ship's  carpenter,  and  which  held 
all  the  wonderful  accumulations  of  his  seafaring  life, 
and  represented  to  Sara  Sullivant  as  much  family  splen 
dor  and  artistic  value  as  any  of  the  Clymers'  costly  cof 
fers  from  the  Orient  and  the  Mediterranean.  Archibald 
made  vigorous  remonstrance  when  the  wagon  brought 
them  to  the  garden  gate  on  the  little  back  street. 

"How  do  you  expect  them  things  are  going  to  be 
housed  ?  "  he  demanded,  letting  his  front  door  elegance 
slip.  "Why  didn't  you  bring  a  barn  or  two,  or  a 
meet'n'-house,  an'  done  with  it?  " 

"How  did  you  expect  me  to  come,  with  all  my  be 
longings?  Like  a  fly,  in  at  the  window,  with  my 


486  SQUARE  PEGS. 

trunk  in  my  mouth  ?  "  Sara  retorted,  with  overwhelm 
ing  smartness ;  and  had  her  way,  with  a  compromise. 
There  was  room  in  the  long  kitchen  hall,  that  ran 
through  the  basement  in  darkness  to  a  storeroom  with 
a  sidewalk  window  on  the  side  street.  And  with  this 
initial  assertion  of  her  resumed  supremacy,  Sara  Sulli- 
vant  inaugurated  herself. 

Upstairs,  both  Sara  and  Archibald  took  virtual  oath 
of  office  in  the  most  alert  and  instant  and  deferential 
discharge  of  the  first  possible  familiar  duties. 

They  unpacked,  and  unpacked,  box  after  box,  as  these 
were  passed  through  the  customs,  invoices  scanned,  heavy 
duties  paid,  and  delivered  up.  Swiss  carvings,  Bohemian 
glass,  Florentine  inlaid  work,  Neapolitan  corals,  Roman 
bronzes,  alabasters  from  Pisa,  rugs  and  soft  silken  dra 
peries  from  Constantinople  and  Ispahan, —  trophies  from 
every  conquered  meridian  and  parallel  of  world  travel. 

"The  house  will  be  solid  with  things,  from  sidewalk 
to  rafters,"  said  Sara  Sullivant.  "Talk  about  my 
chest !  'T  is  n't  a  pill  box !  " 

"Where  could  they  have  expected  to  find  place  for 
it  all  ?  "  queried  gentle  Cousin  Lucy. 

"I  think  Uncle  Clymer  was  planning  to  build  at 
Sycamore  Hill, "  said  Estabel. 

"A  crystal  palace  or  a  museum!  "  interjaculated  Aunt 
Esther,  with  a  sniff,  which  she  checked  in  the  middle,  out 
of  traditional  reverence  for  the  "passed  away." 

"You  might  stock  a  bazaar,  for  the  benefit  of  a 
hospital." 

"  Or  a  lunatic  aslyum, "  Aunt  Esther  supplemented 
under  her  breath.  "It  makes  me  feel  luny  just  to  look 
at  'em." 

"I  might  stock  a  choice  shop,  and  employ  a  shop 
keeper  on  a  liberal  commission, "  said  Estabel  quite  se 
riously.  "I  '11  think  of  that." 

"And  then  the  next  puzzle  will  be  you  won't  know 
what  to  do  with  the  money, "  Aunt  Esther  rejoined. 


APPRAISALS.  487 

Dr.  North,  who  had  suggested  the  bazaar,  laughed, 
and  got  up  to  go.  He  came  to  Mount  Street  now, 
after  his  own  fashion,  with  apparent  unconcern.  He 
had  a  way  of  shielding  himself  in  the  safety  of  num 
bers.  He  talked  impersonally ;  his  remarks  dropped  in 
like  leaves  upon  a  current ;  or  if  he  directly  addressed 
anybody,  it  was  seldom  Estabel.  He  had  most  to  say 
to  the  Gladmother.  When  he  went  away,  it  was  with 
the  curtly  pleasant  generality  of  "Good-by,  all." 

"  I  like  your  idea  of  scattering  the  pleasantness, " 
said  Cousin  Lucy,  a  few  minutes  later,  in  the  china- 
room,  as  they  inspected  the  fresh  treasures  there  that 
had  been  spread  out  on  shelves  and  table. 

"It  's  the  only  way  to  enjoy  any  of  it  myself,"  said 
Estabel.  "I  don't  mean  conscientiously,  but  really 
and  simply.  Don't  you  see  how  the  much  of  it  makes 
it  seem  like  nothing?  I  shall  give  it  away  as  fast  as 
I  can  see  how,  among  the  '  prisoners  and  captives, '  — 
people  shut  up  in  sick  chambers,  or  in  plain,  pinched 
homes.  A  little  would  go  so  far.  One  thing  like  this 
would  make  a  whole  room  beautiful."  She  reached  up 
and  touched  with  her  fingers,  as  she  spoke,  a  great 
ruby-colored  cut-glass  bowl.  "And  there  's  a  cool, 
lovely,  deep  green  one;  that 's  to  be  the  Gladmother's, 
to  hold  her  pond  lilies  next  summer." 

"  Well, "  observed  Sara  Sullivant,  "  I  've  heard  of  a 
bull  in  a  china  shop,  but  I  believe  you  '11  make  things  fly 
smarter!  What  do  you  'spose  your  Aunt  Clyrner  would 
say?" 

Estabel  turned  a  grave,  sweet  look  upon  her.  "I 
think  I  knoiv,"  she  answered.  "And  that  is  greatly 
why  I  mean  to  do  it." 

Perhaps  here,  as  well  as  anywhere,  may  come  in  the 
mention  of  a  slight  occurrence  incident  to  the  reopening 
of  the  Clymer  residence,  and  the  consequent  observation 
and  interest  in  the  vicinity. 


488  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Estabel  met  Corinna  Chilstone  and  her  brother  one 
morning,  coming  up  the  sidewalk,  just  as  she  herself 
was  about  entering  her  own  door.  They  stopped,  and 
Corinna  stepped  eagerly  forward,  stretching  out  her 
hand.  Young  Chilstone  kept  a  little  back,  and  stood 
still,  but  lifted  his  hat  with  an  air  and  smile  of  that 
one-of-us  sort  of  recognition  which  to  Estabel  Char 
lock,  in  the  former  days,  had  not  used  to  come. 

"We  are  going  to  be  neighbors  again?  "  said  Corinna, 
with  a  question  that  was  also  a  glad  exclamation. 
"How  nice!  " 

Estabel  gave  her  hand  for  a  civil  touch,  and  then 
released  it. 

"I  do  not  know.  I  have  no  fixed  plans  yet,"  she 
answered ;  and  then  with  the  sweetest,  most  composed 
simplicity,  asked,  "Were  we  ever  neighbors?  " 

"Oh,  don't  think  of  those  old  school  days!  "  Corinna 
begged,  with  cordial  impulse  not  to  be  gainsaid.  "I 
was  so  silly  then.  Just  beginning;  not  knowing  how 
to  choose,  you  know,  but  supposing  that  I  must  be  so 
careful  in  my  choosing.  Tout  cela  est  change,  n'est  ce 
pas?" 

"A  good  deal  is  changed;  but  some  things  always 
are  the  same.  I  don't  believe  you  '11  like  me  any  bet 
ter  now." 

There  was  a  touch  of  the  old  brusqueness,  more  qui 
etly,  gracefully  given,  still  given  direct,  without  the 
usual  veiling  of  a  polite  sarcasm.  It  was  not  sarcasm; 
it  was  only  honest  statement  and  predication ;  that  was 
what  made  it  most  keenly  sarcastic.  Corinna  hardly 
knew  what  to  do  with  such  directness. 

"We  may  come  and  see  you,  mayn't  we,  Oswald 
and  I  ?  "  she  persisted,  passing  by  magnanimously  what 
ever  Estabel 's  speech  might  mean,  whether  of  modest 
doubt  or  of  purposed  reprisal.  And  again  Mr.  Oswald 
Chilstone  bowed  with  a  smile  to  Estabel,  and  gave  his 
sister  a  glance  which  said,  "Fairly  delivered!  " 


APPRAISALS.  489 

Estabel  smiled  also  —  a  quick,  curious  flash.  She 
was  reminded  of  Professor  Scalchi's  queer  objurgation, 
"Master  Sheelstone!  You  zhoost  like  von  ee-1!  " 

There  was  undoubtedly  something  eel-like  in  the 
squirm  of  the  Chilstone  nature ;  reptile-like  in  the  easy 
shedding  of  its  skin. 

"Certainly,  you  may,  if  we  become  more  settled.  My 
aunt  will  be  with  me.  My  other  aunt,"  she  added,  a 
grave  shade  passing  over  her  face  as  she  saw  the  surprised 
puzzle  in  Corinna's.  "The  milliner,  you  know,"  she 
explained  further,  a  gleam  of  amusement  again  chasing 
away  the  shadow. 

Corinna  laughed,  taking  it  as  a  joke  of  the  privileged. 
Estabel  Charlock  might  have  any  aunt  she  pleased,  now. 

"You  were  always  so  funny!  "  she  exclaimed  weakly. 
"But  we  shall  come.  Good-by!  "  And  the  two  bowed, 
and  nodded,  and  passed  her,  sidling,  with  lingering 
grace  of  leave-taking,  on  their  way. 

"Got  it  both  sides  of  your  head,  didn't  you,  Con?  " 
the  brother  asked,  as  soon  as  they  were  beyond  hearing. 
"She  understands  hitting  out,  doesn't  she?  " 

Through  the  wire  blind  of  a  basement  window,  Sara 
Sullivant  had  had  partial  observation  of  the  interview. 

She  came  up  into  the  vestibule  to  let  Estabel  in. 

"That  was  them  young  Chilstones,  wasn't  it?"  she 
asked. 

Estabel  assented. 

"Pretty  polite,  wasn't  they?  " 

"Very.      They  asked  if  they  might  come  and  call." 

"I  warrant.  They  '11  take  you  at  appraisal.  But- 
ter-an'-cat!  "  said  Sara  Sullivant. 


CHAPTER  LXIII. 

B.     THISTLESTOKE. 

THERE  are  two  sorts  of  mediation  possible  in  human 
affairs :  the  f etch-and-carry  —  the  go-hetween  kind, 
often  meddlesome  and  impertinent,  sometimes  malicious, 
always  hazardous ;  and  the  quiet  sitting  at  the  receipt 
of  confidence,  which  makes  the  recipient  wise  and  quick, 
in  all  the  instincts  of  a  true  sympathy,  and  therefore  a 
possible  sort  of  spiritual  graphophone  —  a  depository  of 
things  that  repeat  themselves  by  a  hidden  law  of  vibra 
tion,  when  the  instrument  is  duly  adjusted  for  the  trans 
mission. 

The  Gladmother  was  such  a  receiver  and  transmitter 
—  quite  without  deliberate  plan,  but  simply  by  the 
working  of  an  inevitable  natural  principle  —  between 
Dr.  North  and  Estabel  Charlock.  She  sat  among  her 
rainbows,  and  listened  to  each ;  and  unconsciously  they 
talked  with  each  other  through  her,  while  imagining 
themselves  very  much  aloof  from  intimate  intercourse. 

It  had  not  proved  comfortably  practicable  for  them 
to  consult  very  much  directly  upon  matters  interesting 
both,  but  bearing  closely  as  they  did  upon  points  of 
personal  difference  between  them.  Estabel  grew  reti 
cent,  if  not  resentful ;  and  Dr.  North,  though  he  knew 
this  was  not  being  true  to  his  own  inmost  truth,  but 
only  to  the  obligation  of  circumstance,  relapsed  into  his 
stiff  and  guarded  restraint. 

But  Ulick  managed  to  make  himself  pretty  well  aware 
of  Estabel' s  movements  through  his  friendly  visits  to 
Mrs.  Trubin ;  and  when  he  had  been  with  the  Glad- 


R.   TIIISTLESTOKE.  491 

mother,  Estabel  was  apt  to  come  in  not  long  after, 
while  things  were  fresh  in  the  old  lady's  mind. 

Once  in  a  while  it  happened  that  the  two  met  in  her 
pleasant  room,  and  then  it  was  almost  funny  how  they 
made  her  serve  for  some  mutual  bit  of  communication 
that  neither  would  have  otherwise  volunteered. 

"I  can't  make  out  much  in  that  West  Gardens  busi 
ness,  "  the  doctor  was  saying  one  day,  as  Estabel  en 
tered.  He  gave  her  usual  greeting,  placed  a  chair  for 
her,  and  then  went  on.  "Mr.  Henslee  has  never  ex 
plained  ;  he  only  says  things  were  settled  long  ago,  in 
regular  way  of  business ;  that  there  is  nothing  more  to 
be  done  about  it.  Of  course,  I  have.no  right  to  de 
mand  to  see  Brace  and  Buckle's  books;  but  they  are 
going  on  as  usual,  and  what  I  want  is  to  know  how 
things  were  settled  with  all  others  who  may  have  been 
interested  as  Mr.  Hawtree  was." 

"I  think  R.  Thistlestoke  would  tell  you,"  said  Es 
tabel. 

She  might  have  explained  further,  without  sending 
him  to  R.  Thistlestoke,  for  she  had  "seen  R.  Thistle- 
stoke  herself  on  that  very  same  quest ;  but  she  had 
grown  shy  of  saying  even  so  much  to  the  doctor  as  the 
few  words  in  which  she  thus  referred  him,  since  he  had 
repudiated  all  joint  action  with  her,  and  maintained  his 
own  careful  reserve. 

Dr.  North  went  to  R.  Thistlestoke. 

R.  Thistlestoke  knew  and  told  him  all  about  it.  He 
also  told  him  that  he  had  already,  at  her  inquiry,  given 
the  same  information  to  Miss  Charlock,  and  long  before 
that  to  Mr.  Henslee.  "It  's  all  been  looked  up  and 
attended  to.  You  're  got  ahead  of.  Yes  —  they  was 
pretty  much  all  friends  of  mine,  those  small  contractors. 
I  was  able  to  give  Mr.  Henslee  all  the  points  he  wanted 
in  the  time  of  it;  and  Brace  and  Buckle's  books  had 
to  do  the  rest.  You  see,  the  amount  of  it  was  this : 
After  that  matter  of  Hawtree,  and  his  death,  and  all, 


492  SQUARE  PEGS. 

Mr.  Henslee  wasn't  the  sort  of  man  to  feel  easy  till 
he  'd  sounded  things  clear  through.  So  he  got  the 
other  shareholders  together,  as  I  understand,  and  laid 
it  before  'em  in  open  house.  '  We  've  got  this  property 
and  improved  it, '  he  says,  or  words  to  that  effect,  —  I 
was  n't  there,  — '  and  it  's  going  to  be  a  high  paying  in 
vestment.  Now  we  don't  want  to  start  the  works  with 
a  flaw  in  the  machinery,  even  if  it  costs  something  to 
put  things  right,  instead  of  letting  'em  go  right  wrong.' 
I  mayn't  have  got  the  exact  words,  but  that  was  the 
sense  of  'em;  and  if  it  wasn't  horse  sense,  it  was  some 
thing  better.  '  It  ain't  too  late,'  he  told  'em,  '  to 
stop  Brace  and  Buckle  just  where  they  are ;  and  it  may 
prove  to  be  in  a  hole.  They  're  calling  meetings,  and 
talking  over  creditors  to  a  compromise  and  expecting 
to  get  off  with  fifty  or  sixty  cents  on  the  dollar,  cash ; 
but  that  don't  mean  much  to  mechanics  who  need  all 
their  pay,  and  ought  to  have  had  it  straight  along.  I 
move  that  we  buy  up  liabilities,  and  then  go  in  with 
our  claims,  and  put  the  whole  thing  into  chancery  if 
the  fellows  won't  come  up  to  the  scratch.'  You  see 
I  'm  putting  it  into  my  own  words, "  R.  Thistlestoke 
parenthesized  again;  "can't  help  that.  Well,  some 
stood  out,  of  course,  and  one  of  'em  had  three  votes; 
won't  say  which  'twas;  anyway,  he  did  stand  out  to 
the  end  — '  on  business  principles, '  he  said ;  and  was 
mad  enough  when  the  others  give  in.  Mr.  Henslee 
told  'em  it  wasn't  any  risk  —  not  half  so  much  as  they 
took  on  average  paper  every  day.  Brace  and  Buckle 
had  got  plenty,  it  was  only  to  scare  'em  into  coming 
out  of  their  hidings  and  playing  up  on  the  square.  So 
finally  he  had  his  way;  it  went  by  a  two  thirds  vote, 
the  notes  were  bought  up  and  put  into  the  accounts, 
and  I  tell  you  the  face  of  things  altered.  Rather  'n  go 
into  chancery  and  be  all  chewed  up,  they  'd  hustle 
round  and  see  what  could  be  done.  And  the  end  was, 
they  paid  up  some,  and  renewed  some,  on  good  security, 


R.  THISTLESTOKE.  493 

and  kep'  out  of  bankrup'cy ;  and  now  I  believe  they  've 
got  a  thumping  new  contract  of  stores  on  Fort  Street 
and  are  going  ahead  whooping.  Anyway,  it  's  off  your 
hands,  if  'twas  ever  on.  And  I  told  Miss  Estabel 
Charlock  the  same." 

Dr.  North  was  getting  light.  He  had  not  all  the 
world  to  set  straight.  Some  things  —  some  people  — • 
were  pretty  near  straight  already.  There  was  a  leaven 
at  work ;  working  himself,  from  that  same  leaven,  he 
came  in  contact  with  it  where  it  had  taken  its  hold  else 
where  in  the  mass.  This  responsibility  was  going  to 
do  something,  reactively,  for  himself  also.  He  began 
to  feel  less  aggressive ;  less  as  if  he  had  the  whole  planet 
to  pull  after  him. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 

SPECTACLES. 

HE  told  the  Gladmother  the  result  of  his  interview 
with  Mr.  Thistlestoke.  "That's  an  honest  man,"  he 
said.  "And  Mr.  Harrison  Henslee,  with  all  his  money, 
is  another."  This  was  great  admission  from  Ulick 
North;  but  if  Ulick  North  had  a  conviction,  though  it 
might  contradict  former  prejudice,  he  was  bound  to 
announce  it. 

"Why  do  you  suppose  she  —  Miss  Estabel  " — •  he 
formalized  her  name  with  difficulty —  "did  not  tell  me 
all  this  herself,  instead  of  sending  me  to  R.  Thistle- 
stoke  ?  " 

"There  might  be  several  reasons.  One  is,  I  think 
likely,  that  she  's  as  proud,  and  as  afraid,  as  you  are." 

Dr.  North  looked  up  quickly.      "Of  what?  "  he  asked. 

"  Of  pretty  much  the  same,  maybe, "  returned  the 
sententious  old  lady.  "I  don't  "pretend  to  know.  But 
I  can  see  this  much  —  that  you 're  each  pulling  at  an 
opposite  end  of  a  hard  knot,  and  only  drawing  it 
tighter.  I  don't  think  you  're  either  of  you  very  bright, 
Dr.  Ulick.  I  've  looked  for  my  spectacles  before  now, 
when  they  were  on  top  of  my  head.  And  I  've  heard 
of  a  man  who  couldn't  find  his,  because  he  hadn't  got 
'em  to  hunt  with." 

"Yours  appear  to  be  on  your  nose,  now,  at  any  rate, 
Gladmother,"  said  Dr.  Ulick,  laughing.  "You  may  as 
well  tell  me  what  you  see." 

"I  see  yours  right  at  your  elbow.  It  's  for  you  to 
pick  'em  up  and  put  'em  on." 


SPECTACLES.  495 

"I  think  you  're  talking  in  riddles,  Mrs.  Trubin." 

"Now  you  're  going  into  your  shell  again.  It  isn't 
any  riddle  that  Estabel  Charlock  won't  answer  ques 
tions  that  you  don't  ask.  You  asked  me  right  over 
her  head.  She  was  pretty  good  to  tell  you  anything. 
You  've  shut  her  up,  Ulick  North.  She  would  have 
been  glad  of  your  help  and  advice  about  this  thing  you 
have  both  got  to  do,  and  you  have  snubbed  her.  You 
wouldn't  bother  yourself  with  her  affairs,  and  she  won't 
put  herself  forward  to  meddle  with  yours,  unless  you 
ask  her.  That  's  natural  enough.  I  've  always  thought 
you  were  pretty  clever  at  seeing  into  things,  but  you 
don't  seem  to  have  got  your  eyes  open  about  this.  Why 
can't  you  see  that  to  make  friends  of  this  unrighteous 
mammon  difficulty  would  be  the  quickest  means  of  get 
ting  it  out  of  your  way  altogether?  Wouldn't  two 
pairs  of  hands  work  faster .  at  it  than  one  can  ?  And 
mayn't  you  possibly,  for  fear  of  a  small,  shabby  thing, 
be  refusing  yourself  —  and  somebody  else  —  a  great, 
divine  thing  ?  "  — 

She  had  gone  on,  as  impelled  by  something  that 
would  be  spoken  and  spoken  earnestly ;  but  she  broke 
off  with  a  gentle  self-check.  "You  'd  better  think  it 
out,  Dr.  Ulick.  I  guess  I  've  said  all  I  've  got  to  say 
—  or  it 's  best  to  say  —  on  that  point." 

"Perhaps,  then,  you  could  enlighten  me  on  some 
other, "  suggested  Ulick  blandly.  He  had  taken  up  his 
hat,  but,  instead  of  rising  to  go,  sat  twirling  it  between 
his  knees.  "I  have  plenty  of  puzzles.  I  've  almost 
come  to  the  end  of  my  direct  clues." 

"Clues  to  what?  " 

"These  liabilities  of  Uncle  Clymer's,  that  I  was  to  set 
right.  There  seems  just  now  to  be  no  thoroughfare." 

"Did  you  expect  to  go  back  into  his  whole  life,  and 
live  it  over  again  for  him?  That  isn't  given  to  us 
to  do,  even  for  ourselves.  The  only  thing  is  to  go  on. 
You  're  not  very  bright  about  that,  either,  Dr.  Ulick." 


496  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"I  dare  say  not.  I  don't  feel  so.  I  'm  only  sure 
of  the  one  thing,  —  that  all  this  that  has  been  put  into 
my  hands  is  owed  —  somewhere." 

"Isn't  everything  —  that's  in  any  of  our  hands? 
Why  should  you  separate  this  from  all  the  rest  you  're 
trusted  with  ?  " 

"How  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  your  own  life  —  your  power,  your  skill, 
your  special  chances  to  help.  If  you  can't  find  clear 
ways  enough  of  making  up  for  what  might  have  been 
done  by  somebody  else,  to  get  rid  of  every  cent  of  this 
money  right  off,  why  not  conclude  that  you  're  put  at 
liberty  by  some  of  it  to  turn  round  and  give  service 
where  you  were  only  earning  your  bread  before? 
You  're  a  very  rich  man  that  way  yourself,  Ulick  North, 
and  you  have  a  very  grand  errand." 

Here  was  a  fresh  aspect,  again.  Would  that  fashion 
of  looking  at  and  interpreting  it  be  a  sophistry  ?  He 
was  terribly  self-suspicious  and  afraid  of  sophistries, 
this  young  radical. 

"Estabel    has    more    common   sense.      And   common 
sense  and  angelic  sense  are  made  to  work  together  — 
not  opposite." 

"  What  does  Estabel  say  ?  " 

Do  you  suppose  Dr.  North  put  that  question  ?  Not 
at  all,  in  words.  But  it  was  alert  in  every  fibre  of 
him.  He  was  all  ears,  and  his  ears  were  "pricked  up." 

The  Gladmother  answered :  — 

"She  says  she  has  the  rest  of  Aunt  Vera's  life  to 
live  for  her.  She  knows  it  can't  be  all  done  at  once, 
and  nothing  can  be  wholly  done  over.  '  I  shall  do  it 
as  fast  as  I  see  how, '  she  says.  '  Aunt  Vera  has  been 
interrupted,  and  I'm  taking  it  up  to  go  on.'  I've 
told  her,  and  Mr.  Henslee  has  told  her,  —  you  've  found 
out  now  that  he  has  both  kinds  of  sense,  —  that  what 
ever  else  she  does,  she  must  keep  a  safe  and  sufficient 
competence  for  herself,  and  not  be  in  a  blind  hurry 


SPECTACLES.  497 

with  the  rest.  '  Why,  of  course, '  she  said  to  that ; 
;  that  is  all  down  in  the  will  I  'm  making.  I  've  left 
enough  to  myself.  That  's  what  Aunt  Vera  meant,  I 
know.  And  the  rest  is  the  Trust  Fund.  It  's  the 
Sacred  Remnant.  If  I  don't  find  ways  to  use  it  up 
while  I  live,  it  goes  at  last  with  the  competence.  And 
I  mean  that  to  go  where  I  think  it  will  work  out  the 
errand.'  She's  got  the  wisdom  of  the  children,  Dr. 
North.  She  '11  never  be  a  too-rich  woman  of  a  too- 
worldly  world.  And  you  need  n't  lay  that  up  any 
longer  against  her." 

What,  really,  had  he  to  lay  up  against  her? 

What,  in  sober  reason,  to  build  up  against  himself? 
When,  after  all,  the  very  thing  she  had  wanted  of  him 
and  had  asked  of  him  in  simple  friendship,  had  been 
to  help  her  pull  down  and  put  away  this  barrier  that 
had  been  set  between  them  ?  When  even  the  restitu 
tion  to  himself  which  she  had  pleaded  to  make  might 
have  been  only  as  the  passing  from  one  hand  to  the 
other  for  the  doing  of  a  selfsame  will,  that  which  their 
two  wills  might  unite  to  put  to  an  identical  purpose  ? 

What,  in  the  final  real  argument,  had  this  inheritance 
practically  to  do  with  their  possible  personal  relations? 

The  Gladmother's  Ithuriel  touch,  reversing  the  old 
Satanic  transformation,  had  shown  him,  under  the  dis 
appearing  guise  of  an  opposing  evil  phantom,  the  wing- 
flash  of  an  angel  of  light. 

And  she  had  told  him,  this  wise  Gladmother,  that 
if  he  wanted  to  know  anything  of  Estabel,  he  must  ask 
her  himself,  straight  out. 


CHAPTER  LXV. 

UNCONDITIONAL    SUKBENDEB. 

DB.  NOBTH  was  used  to  rapid  reasoning.  He  was 
also  used  to  prompt  action  upon  his  conclusions.  He 
determined  to  ask  a  question  —  perhaps  more  than  one 
—  of  Estabel  Charlock. 

He  was  a  man  who  made,  not  waited  for,  his  oppor 
tunity.  He  was  no  more  easily  turned  aside  from  a 
formed  intent  than  compelled  into  anything  which  he 
did  not  intend,  or  believe  to  he  the  thing  consonant 
with  his  own  obligations  as  he  might  at  any  particular 
time  understand  them. 

The  very  next  day  after  his  talk  with  the  Gladmother 
in  which  she  had  turned  that  fine  light  upon  the  mutual 
attitude  of  Estabel  and  himself,  and  upon  their  common 
problems,  he  walked  over  to  Mount  Street  at  an  early 
after-dinner  hour,  which  in  those  days  meant  early 
afternoon,  before  ordinary  visitors  might  be  expected, 
and  inquired  of  Archibald  at  the  door  for  Miss  Estabel 
Charlock. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  think  Miss  Estabel  is  in  the  library, 
sir,"  and  stood  aside,  as  leaving  the  way  for  him  to 
proceed  thither. 

"Be  kind  enough  to  ask  if  she  will  see  me,"  said 
Dr.  North. 

Archibald,  with  an  impassive  propriety  that  re 
strained  some  curious  surprise  at  the  unusual  formality, 
obeyed ;  and  returning,  announced  with  the  same  per- 
functoriness  what  Estabel's  gently  audible  assent  had 
made  it  unnecessary  to  repeat,  —  "Certainly,  sir;  this 


UNCONDITIONAL   SURRENDER.  499 

way,  sir.  Shall  I  take  your  overcoat,  sir  ?  "  And  in 
another  moment  he  was  within  the  room,  and  Archibald 
had  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Going  down  to  the  kitchen,  the  astute  official  laid 
injunction  upon  Sara. 

"I  'm  going  down- town  of  an  errand,  Miss  Sulli- 
vant, "  he  said.  "Dr.  North's  upstairs;  he's  called 
particular  on  Miss  Estabel.  If  the  bell  rings  before 
he  goes,  you  may  as  well  not  let  anybody  else  in. 
They  've  got  some  business,  most  likely.  I  don't 
know,  and  I  haven't  any  orders,  but  I  '11  take  the  re 
sponsibility.  The  doctor's  look  meant  business,  if  I  've 
any  judgment ;  and  I  've  taken  some  notice  for  a  con 
siderable  spell  back.  I  know  some  signs  by  experience. 
A  man  holds  back  —  and  shies  off  —  and  then  he 
marches  up.  Dr.  North's  marching  up;  it  ain't  a 
suitable  time  to  interrupt.  There  may  be  too  much 
depending.  If  you  was  to  go  and  ask  Miss  Estabel 
some  little  faddling  question  now  —  Lord !  you  might 
as  well  put  a  loose  pin  into  that  music  box  they  set 
running  the  other  night.  There  'd  be  an  end  of  the 
tune,  an'  maybe  it  'd  never  play  up  again.  So  don't 
go  near  the  lib'ry,  nor  let  anybody  else,  unless  the 
house  catches  fire  and  there  's  barely  time  to  warn  'em 
to  get  out." 

"Got  through?  P'r'aps  you  think  I  never  had  any 
experience  myself?  Experiences  don't  tell,  when  you  've 
known  how  to  drop  your  own  pins.  I  never  was  one  to 
say  yes,  just  to  show  folks  I  'd  had  the  chance  to  say 
no."  Sara  Sullivant  was  ironing,  and  she  set  down 
her  flatiron  with  a  thud  that  might  have  vibrated  to  the 
third  story. 

"I  didn't  say  anything  about  yes  and  no.  Women 
always  grip  a  thing  before  it's  there;  and  when  it  is 
there,  they  let  go.  There  's  explanations  to  make  some 
times.  And  Dr.  North  's  been  laying  up  a  pretty  good 
stock  of  'em.  Where  's  Miss  Charlock?  " 


500  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"Up  in  her  room,  finishing  off  a  bonnet." 
"Don't  let  her  go  down  to  the  lib'ry,  then,  to  consult 
whether  a  feather  shall  stick  up  or  stick  down."      And 
having  provided  against   all  conceivable  contingencies, 
Archibald  took  himself  off. 

Sara  Sullivant  went  straight  to  Miss  Charlock's  room 
with  an  armful  of  fresh  linen,  and  certain  household 
questions  for  more  or  less  extended  consideration. 
With  all  this  munition  she  mounted  guard.  She  thought 
she  could  keep  that  last  feather  from  being  placed  too 
critically  in  point  of  time.  If  nothing  else  would  do, 
she  would  stand  sentry  with  leveled  musket. 

Estabel  was  sitting  at  the  library  table.  She  had 
been  copying  some  inventories,  and  the  loose  memoran 
dum  slips  lay  about  her.  She  rose  when  the  doctor 
came  in. 

"May  I  talk  with  you  a  little  while?  Or  are  you 
very  busy  ?  " 

"It  is  always  easy  to  be  busy;  and  it  is  almost  al 
ways  easy  to  make  time, "  she  answered,  with  a  grace 
of  courtesy  that  just  stopped  short  of  impulsive  readi 
ness. 

"Perhaps  there  are  a  number  of  things  that  I  might 
say  —  or  ought  to  say, "  the  doctor  began,  as  he  drew 
up  the  chair  she  offered  him,  and  she  resumed  her  seat 
beside  the  table,  the  corner  of  which  was  as  a  kind  of 
redoubt  between  them.  "I  think  I  owe  you,  in  some 
matters,  an  account  of  myself." 

Estabel  said  never  a  word.  "I  think  you  do  "  might 
have  been  inferred  from  the  quiet  pause  in  which  she 
listened ;  but  she  neither  contradicted  nor  affirmed  by 
even  any  slightest  gesture. 

"Will  you  let  that  wait  and  answer  me  something 
first?" 

"If  I  can." 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  me,  yourself,  all  that  story 


UNCONDITIONAL  SURRENDER.  501 

of  Brace  and  Buckle,  and  Mr.  Henslee's  dealing  with 
them,  instead  of  sending  me  to  R.  Thistlestoke  ?  " 

"I  did  not  think  you  wanted  it  from  me.  You  did  not 
ask  me.  And  I  knew  R.  Thistlestoke  could  do  it  best." 

"That  brings  me  to  my  point.  Have  I  offended 
you  ?  " 

"Not  that  exactly.  You  have  simply  shown  me  that 
we  cannot  work  together ;  that  our  affairs  had  better 
not  be  mixed.  And  you  have  said  you  would  have  no 
thing  from  me." 

Estabel  spoke  without  a  shade  of  rancor,  and  with 
the  half  play  of  a  smile. 

"You  know  what  that  meant,"  Dr.  North  answered 
her  quickly;  but  he  understood  how  her  words  went  to 
the  root  of  the  matter. 

After  a  minute's  silence,  he  spoke  from  the  very  root 
of  the  matter  himself. 

"I  will  ask  you  everything,  now.  I  will  take  what 
ever  you  will  choose  to  give  me." 

That  was  plain  enough,  if  things  had  only  been  a 
little  plainer  before.  But  on  the  face  of  it,  it  seemed 
to  require  of  Estabel  no  recognition  beyond  that  of  a 
withdrawal  from  the  cold  position  of  determined  uncon 
cern,  of  unqualified  refusal.  And  it  was  late,  now,  for 
this  to  come. 

"What  has  changed  your  mind?  "  she  asked  him. 

"My  mind  is  not  changed.  It  is  only  cleared  up  — 
convinced." 

"Of  what,  Dr.  North?" 

"Of  your  being  all  that  you  have  irresistibly  proved 
yourself  to  be ;  all  that  I  did  not  think  I  should  ever 
find.  Of  your  being  more  simply  wise,  more  heavenly 
true,  than  I  am.  That  out  of  your  truth,  you  see 
truth.  I  am  ready  to  believe  what  you  believe ;  as  if 
in  some  things  I  were  blind,  but  you  could  be  eyes  for 
me.  I  am  ready  to  do  what  you  find  good  to  do.  I 
am  in  your  hands,  Estabel." 


502  SQUARE  PEGS. 

This  was  unconditional  surrender,  but  not  in  such  form 
that  she  could  answer  to  all  that  it  implied  —  that  she 
could  quite  dare  let  herself  think  that  it  implied. 

She  caught  her  breath;  but  she  looked  at  him  with 
large,  frank  eyes,  that  —  as  he  had  declared  of  her 
pure  vision  —  would  search  and  find  the  truth. 

"  You  think  all  that  of  me  ?  You  mean  all  that,  Dr. 
North?" 

"That,  and  more.  May  I  say  the  rest?  " 
She  hurried  a  little  with  her  reply.  The  great  im 
pending  revelation  was  too  strange;  it  startled  her. 
She  would  keep  it  back  a  space.  She  would  keep  to 
that  first  moot  point,  the  resolving  of  which  between 
them  would  of  itself  make  her  happy.  "I  am  glad 
you  will  be  friends  with  me,"  she  began.  "I  am  very 
glad  that  you  can  believe  in  me.  I  was  afraid  you 
never  would.  I  knew  that  you  disliked  me  once  —  for 
a  good  while  "  — 

"You  are  mistaken,  Estabel.  I  never  did  dislike 
you." 

"Then  I  don't  understand  "  —  and  there  she  stopped. 
She  could  not  bring  up  all  the  past,  and  all  her  feeling 
in  it,  at  once  confessing  herself  and  forcing  him  to 
fuller  explanation. 

But  Dr.  North  had  begun  to  explain.  It  was  what 
he  had  come  to  her  to-day  to  do,  and  he  never  left 
things  half  done. 

"No.      I  told  you  that  I   owed  you  an  account  of 
myself.      But  before  I  could  suppose  that  it  would  sig 
nify  to   you,    I   had  to   ask  —  what  I  have  asked.      I 
don't  always  understand  myself.      I  am  made  so  —  or 
I  have  been  twisted  so  —  that   I  can't  take  anything 
without  test.      I  am   jealous   of   my  own   impressions. 
I  watch  and  question  them.      It  is  n't  easy  for  me  to 
believe  —  all  that  I  most  desire  to  believe." 
And  here,  in  his  turn,  he  hesitated. 
To  that  Estabel  could  speak.       "That  is  the  whole 


UNCONDITIONAL  SURRENDER.  503 

trouble,  Dr.  North.  It  is  just  what  has  been  in  the 
way  of  my  — -  understanding.  I  was  always  running 
against  your  doubts  —  of  me,  and  of  things  that  I 
couldn't  bear  to  think  you  doubted.  You  can't  be 
lieve.  You  want  to  see  everything;  to  put  your  finger 
upon  a  thing  before  you  will  acknowledge"  it  is  there. 
And  yet  "  —  she  smiled  a  lovely,  timid  smile,  deprecat 
ing  what  might  seem  like  such  arraignment — "you 
know  we  cannot  really  touch,  after  all.  There  's  al 
ways  a  space  between  that  we  have  to  believe  over. 
We  have  to  trust  —  each  other,  and  all  the  things  that 
we  are  put  in  any  sort  of  relation  with.  We  are  made 
up  of  impressions." 

"I  believe  you.  I  have  said  that  you  may  testify 
to  me,  if  you  will.  Will  you  take  me  in  hand,  Es- 
tabel ?  " 

Still  she  answered  him  on  the  score  of  friendship. 
"I  think  I  am  taking  you  in  hand,"  she  said.  "I 
have  brought  up  old  things  against  you,  that  in  some 
part  I  think  differently  about  now.  I  had  begun  to 
see  how  true  you  had  to  be  with  yourself  before  you 
could  say  that  anything  was  absolutely  true  to  you;  and 
how  sure  you  would  be  to  find  out  how  the  truth  in 
you  was  the  truth  everywhere.  I  did  want  you  to  find 
some  of  it  in  me ;  that  you  would  just  not  think  meanly 
of  me  —  just  be  friends.  I  should  be  so  proud  —  so 
glad.  And  I  thought  we  were  almost  friends,  when 
this  poor  money  came  and  stopped  it." 

"No."  The  syllable  broke  with  emphasis  from 
Ulick's  lips.  "Money  stopped  nothing.  It  only  forced 
back  upon  itself  what  could  not  be  stopped  —  what  it 
was  too  late  to  stop.  It  would  not  have  hindered 
friendship.  It  did  forbid  —  it  only  stopped  me  from 
—  not  friendship,  Estabel ;  it  would  not  have  touched 
that ;  it  was  from  "  — 

She  interposed  before  the  word.  "You  will  let  me 
make  it  right,  then,  now  ?  You  will  divide  with  me  ?  " 


504  SQUARE  PEGS. 

"No, "  he  said  again  impetuously.  "I  will  not  di 
vide.  I  will  have  all  or  nothing.  Will  you  not  let  me 
say  that  I  want  you  ?  I  will  help  you  give  away  your 
last  dollar,  if  you  will  give  me  yourself." 

Estabel  looked  in  his  face  a  moment.  Her  own 
flushed.  The  tears  welled  up  into  her  eyes.  Then, 
slowly,  she  stretched  out  hoth  her  hands  to  him.  He 
took  them  in  a  strong  grasp.  He  stood  up,  came  close, 
and  leaned  over  her.  "I  love  you  with  my  very  soul," 
he  whispered. 

And  Estabel  answered  low,  "I  believe  you,  Dr. 
North." 

He  leaned  closer.  He  held  the  little  hands  to  his 
strong  heart.  He  searched  into  her  eyes  with  his  own, 
that  glowed  fervently. 

"  How  much  does  that  mean  ?  You  only  believe  ?  I 
shall  want  more.  And  you  must  not  say  Dr.  North." 

"Believing  is  all.      I  love  you,  Ulick." 

After  a  happy  quietness  they  began  to  talk  of  many 
things.  On  everything  a  new  light  shone ;  all  was 
bright  as  in  the  rising  of  a  new  day.  Many  things  — 
yet  always  the  same,  because  through  and  in  them  all  had 
run,  and  at  this  supreme  moment  had  been  made  mani 
fest,  the  history  of  that  love  which  now  and  for  always 
was  declared  and  understood,  without  a  cloud  or  doubt 
between  them ;  which  now  and  for  always,  in  all  these 
things,  in  all  that  these  should  come  to,  in  all  else  that 
should  meet  them  and  grow  in  them  for  all  their  life, 
which  was  to  be  one,  should  shine  and  rule  and  bless, 
keeping  the  holy,  beautiful  unity.  Nothing  would  be 
small,  nothing  could  be  adverse,  nothing  could  harass 
and  perplex,  because  nothing  would  separate.  All 
would  have  to  do  with,  and  to  further,  and  to  manifest 
joyfully,  that  central,  everlasting  truth  of  life,  —  that 
which  when  his  children  know,  makes  them  know  God. 

It  was  very  sweet  now  to  talk  of  what  they  might 


UNCONDITIONAL   SURRENDER.  505 

do  together  with  this  money  that  had  so  nearly  driven 
them  apart. 

"You  will  give  me  my  freedom  in  it!  "  Estabel  said 
suddenly,  a  new  perception  striking  her  of  what  her 
changed  position  would  be.  "I  shall  not  have  to  wait 
the  whole  two  years  for  anything!  " 

And  then,  stopping  as  suddenly  as  she  had  exclaimed, 
she  blushed  beautifully;  and  Ulick  did  not  answer  her 
in  words,  but  by  use  of  his  silent  prerogative,  which 
made  her  blush  the  more. 

Before  he  went  away,  standing  with  his  arm  around 
her,  and  his  eyes  looking  down  into  her  face  without  any 
more  reserve  of  that  which  had  been  kept  back  so  long, 
Ulick  said  to  her  softly,  "  I  do  not  think  I  have  disguised 
myself,  Estabel,  except  in  this  that  I  have  given  up  dis 
guising.  You  know  what  I  am,  and  what  I  am  not.  And 
you  take  me,  bravely  and  sweetly,  just  as  I  am?  You 
dare  it,  and  you  wish  it  ?  " 

Estabel  gave  him  a  quick  smile,  that  had  in  it  at 
once  a  flash  of  fun,  and  withal  a  wonderful  tenderness. 

"You  were  so  determined  not  to  disguise  yourself 
that  you  did  not  behave  yourself,"  she  said.  "I  told 
the  Gladmother  that  long  ago.  You  behaved  somebody 
else  that  was  not  you  at  all.  But  I  do  not  think,"  and 
a  lovely  seriousness  possessed  both  face  and  voice,  "that 
we  take  each  other  so  much  for  what  we  are,  as  for 
what  we  are  going  to  be  —  and  should  never  be, "  she 
ended  almost  in  a  whisper,  leaning  her  head  down  to 
ward  his  shoulder,  "without  each  other." 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

AS    A    SAPPHIRE    STONE. 

TWILIGHT  was  falling  that  winter  afternoon,  though 
the  days  were  lengthening,  before  anybody  came  near  the 
library. 

Dr.  North  had  just  left  the  house,  and  Estabel  had 
escaped  upstairs,  when  Archibald  ventured  cautiously  in 
to  light  the  gas. 

The  next  day  the  whole  house  knew.  And  Casino 
Crescent  knew.  And  there  was  great  gladness.  And 
in  the  Gladmother's  room  the  rainbows  shone  and 
streamed  in  noonday  sunshine  when  Ulick  and  Estabel 
came  to  her  for  her  tender  word  of  blessing. 

And  a  letter  went  that  very  day  that  would  find 
Lilian  and  Harry  in  some  fair  West  Indian  island,  on 
their  leisurely  journey  northward,  coming  home  over 
the  long  sea  leagues  with  the  springtime. 

It  was  a  few  days  later  that  Ulick  brought  to  Estabel 
the  betrothal  ring.  There  had  needed  a  little  time, 
he  said,  to  make  it  what  he  wanted. 

It  was  an  Aster ia.      A  sapphire,  cut  en  cabochon. 

Estabel  looked  into  its  blue  clearness.  The  six  rays 
shot  from  its  centre  their  sparkle  of  light. 

"Oh,  the  beautiful  star!  "  she  exclaimed. 

"Yes.      It  is  your  name-star  —  Hester-bel." 

He  bent  his  head  near  hers,  over  the  gem  of  truth, 
and  lifted  the  finger  upon  which  he  had  placed  it  to 
his  lips. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  asked  her,  "what  you  are  going 
to  be  ?  Estabel  North,  my  sure,  beautiful  Polar  Star !  " 


AS  A  SAPPHIRE  STONE.  507 

Estabel   laughed  —  a   low,    happy,    tremulous   laugh. 
"A  free  translation  —  or  an  astronomic  transposal  " 
she   replied.       "But"  —  looking  up  at  him  with    that 
glance  he  had  only  known  from  her  these  last,  few,  per 
fect  days  —  "the  globe  is  rectified  —  for  us." 


ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED 
BY   H.   O.    HOUGHTON   AND   CO. 


CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  U.  S.  A. 


